


Panther's Wonder

by talentedbutnot



Category: Black Panther (Comics), DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amalgam Comics - Freeform, Blood and Violence, F/M, Fantasy, Kings & Queens, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talentedbutnot/pseuds/talentedbutnot
Summary: T'Challa of Wakanda. Diana of Themyscira. Once lovers, better warriors, fate reunites a pair of the world's finest. Not a moment too soon as their enemy won't rest until everything they love is reduced to ash and cinder.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Based on characters belonging to DC Comics and Marvel. Written for fun and because I've long appreciated both Black Panther and Wonder Woman._ **

* * *

_Totems of shining onyx were the main attraction. Molds dedicated to the Panther goddess. Energetic teenagers only recognized their mother and father. No games, no time to jest, or tease, as they were able to when alone. A torrent of punches met his blocks on a balmy afternoon. Their backdrop of golden plains, ceremonial wear fitting, he parried her swings returning just as swift counters._  

 _She watched every change in what definition his attire exposed. Tall as he was skilled, sharp as he was assured it brought a question to mind. Their natural weapons clashed. She swept at his_ _feet_ _so he jumped bringing a fist towards her skull, it meeting her silver bracer instead. His reaction a retreating flip the balls of his feet hit warm soil._  

 _"You fare well in running!"_  

 _He stood some ways from her brushing off the taunts. His grin to antagonize was enough to tip any scales. She took up a chosen stance as he did. Their disciplines were different._ _Their_ _being a threat to almost anyone wasn't._  

 _"Please tell me this is not your best, princess!"_  

 _Though they made light their parents followed their every movement. Hippolyta and_ _T'Chaka_ _didn't mince words._  

 _"The_ _vibranium_ _caches are most effective."_  

 _Unnaturally striking Hippolyta's crown was very much an earned right. She looked to_ _T'Chaka's_ _tribal garb, his bejeweled_ _diadem_ _and_ _the brown of his hardened_ _skin_ _his eyes appeared heavier. The burden of ruling a nation._  

 _"Whether it be Bast or Athena matters little, Hippolyta. We cannot depend only on the gods to defend our borders. I fear the time is coming," he said._  

 _"Yes. I have been adamant in preparing her, as well."_  

 _"But you forbid her to leave Themyscira?"_  

 _"—She is too young. Too successful at proving her worth."_  

 _"Too much like her mother."_  

 _The monarchs exchanged respect as they entered towering palace doors of teal. Royal servants, advanced weaponry in hand, were stoic as they refused to emote. They bowed as their king moved with someone as enlightened._  

 _"She is not ready. I believe the same holds true for the world," Hippolyta said again to stress the point._  

 _T'Chaka_ _offered a broad grin thinking of his own offspring. "Your wisdom never falters, Queen of the Amazons. Children disregard their roles, present or future. The ignorance of youth. Or is it bliss? Your daughter, my son, we have foreseen their ordained place well before they choose to."_  

 _A king and queen glossed over politics. Trade and commerce. The_ _dark_ _shadow of potential wars with outsiders. Amazons and_ _Wakandans_ _were appreciative of lineage. Both nations were too secretive for their own good. Both housed the most powerful substances: raw, mystical resources that if pilfered by the wrong hands would be ruinous to the world and beyond. Woe be to anyone foolish enough to challenge these people of such remarkable regions. And yet—there were those that always would._  

* * *

 ** _2,920 Days Too Long..._**  

Her people practiced compassion. Not so much the bloodthirsty, immortal combatants most not in the know assumed them to be. Violence no matter how skillfully executed was never a must. It was their last resort when options of peace were exhausted. This she thought of at the start of her morning. If it was her choice she would have stayed in bed. Hermes blessing allowed her to remain over one of their streets in one of their cities. 

The wayward hooptie avoiding her weaved throughout traffic that wasn't yet gridlocked, swerving this way and that wearing away tire tread. Automatic rifle barrels peeked through lowered windows. They hoped hollow point ammunition could pluck her from the sky. Shots bounced from the perfect sheen of her bracers. The pace at which she positioned both dizzied. An arm wave slapped a bullet striking what she aimed for. First came the pop. Then their getaway ride began its skid into a parked convertible. No longer mobile her opponents shook underneath jumpsuits when their chaser tore a back door from its hinges. Divine endowments betrayed the even of her bronzed features. 

She disliked resorting to conflict again and again. It was often enough to annoy. She pulled one from the driver's seat like a lioness carrying her cub between a controlled bite taking the torn collars of two more, gentle with the easily harmed. She ignored the stench of soiled trousers. Any to see it watched her take a lariat's glimmer from her belt. Another blessing bright as an adolescent sun when she uncoiled it. It almost puzzled more than the silver stars on her briefs. 

Pedestrians rushed and officers pushed. Maintaining order was never easy should she decide to grace them with her presence. They wanted a glimpse, needed one, of the nicks on her armored bodice. An ancient chestplate of marigold like her tiara but unlike the head ornament's five pointed, crimson seal. Diana remembered. Never stay in the public eye too long. When she took off every eye rose with her. Gravitational holds weren't bothersome. Tresses touched the arch of her back she rose a knee advancing like a lobbed javelin straight and certain of her travel. Her ordained task was to teach them the merits, the values instilled in her at birth. How a loving society is more beneficial than a patriarchal one could ever hope to be. Sometimes, just sometimes, she doubted she’d ever succeed. 

* * *

Composed of its numerous member states were doubting men and women. Respective flags promoting their nations before them in an auditorium. Not her people, not her customs. The assembly met annually. One such summit lingered to the point of tedium. And leading a debate was a Themysciran delegate formal in her dark pantsuit and pumps, rimless glasses over vision that dazzled, and wavy dark tied into a tight bun when at work. 

"The information you've received is current as are new details regarding metahuman offenders. Facilities like Stryker's and the Vault providing humane treatment is of greater importance. It is what sets us apart." 

Her gall sure she wanted nothing more than another meeting to be over. Listening to needless chatter, some of it coming from her, the anxious mentality of humans got on her last nerve. She couldn't say the same of all humans. Her mind wandered with her watch which rested on Wakanda's new king. His poise was unmatched even as he sat. His brooding wasn't without right. They had much to discuss. 

* * *

"Ambassador Prince." 

Diana turned from shaking hands with peers to find a deep voice. Standing before her was someone as regal. Two intimidating women to his sides she knew them to be the Dora Milaje: personal bodyguards, potential wives, completely shaven and not to be trifled with. Their facial tattoos denoted origin. Beautiful glares narrowed on the ambassador as their king addressed her. T'Challa glanced to Diana's civvies finding more than intrigue. 

"King T'Challa," she said expecting him. She led the king from bustle. Prying ears and eyes. He kept at her side though they wouldn't trade anecdotes. Arriving at her office T'Challa faced his protectors. 

"Jira waje," he said. 

Heads lowered, respectful, his Adored Ones stood in place and would with or without anyone else's say so. Closing a door to traditional he studied what adorned its walls. A xiphos sheathed behind a glimmering shield, arts and crafts, Diana took a seat behind her desk. 

"You waste no time," she began all of stern yet her tone soothed. T'Challa, standing proud, decided against sitting. Hands held behind his back his suit was every bit of suave and just as pricey. 

"A killer freely roams the country you police," he said dryly. "You expect anything less?" 

Diana relaxed elbows against her desktop, her stare on a man she revered. Just seeing him as an adult raised too many questions. It incited too many memories of past dalliances. T'Challa's expression remained neutral. The slant of fierce eyes offered nothing. Lacking emotion he felt as she did. The stoic prince turned king could never deny her stunning but professionalism, he believed, always proceeded affection. 

"I expect your patience. This is not Wakanda. I've contacted the U.S. State Department. They have mentioned your interrogating common thugs. Beating some within an inch of their lives. That is not justice, your highness," she said firmly. 

T'Challa glanced to a Persian rug, its detail colorful, dynamic, yet it also gave no answers. He found that Diana stood walking slow while she kept her distance. She next entered his personal space and he remained still. Wrapping arms around his nape she pulled him close. Of all the things he should profess a childhood friend wasn't one of them. The strength of his body, like hers, savored in their embrace her smell was foreign, sweet and so unlike the American aroma he had grown accustomed to. It contrasted their prowess as great warriors. Possibly the greatest. Releasing each other his Amazon friend looked to his handsome disposition. He was tired. The demands of his new status imposed. Pressures of an entire country needing his guiding hand to thrive. She walked from him to shut the blinds of a wide bay window. 

"What do you need?" she asked. 

T'Challa granted her attention as hers was already given. "Your promise that you will not interfere." 

"I cannot allow you to kill in cold blood. Not on American soil nor anywhere else." 

"I don't plan to, princess. When I find the one responsible, and I will, they'll answer for the crime against my people. The unpardonable insult to me." 

What he said mattered though Diana focused on the perfectly groomed of his goatee. Their eye contact lingered longer than it should have. She would say they both dwelled in the comfort of truth. Those knowing them best would say they were stubborn. 

"Is that all?" she finally said. 

"For now. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, ambassador," he said on the way out. 

She watched his leave though was firmly against it so she planned. Her mind was set. Defying his wishes was expected. An always strategic king prepared for any circumstance. He knew he would deal with another shadowing his whereabouts. He also wouldn't mind it. 

* * *

His post was a barren rooftop across the street from a garage. Evening raindrops pelting alien metal but he resumed a steady watch peering through vision ports of a full faced mask adjoined to a microweave mesh. Heightened senses let him sniff an unknown alloy yards away before he neared it. Standing, enhanced agility allowed his leap as he sprung from his perch cutting through foggy air over the road below. The antimetal of his glove tips digging into brick, he slid, dropping over twenty feet. His landing was quiet into a crouch. Pressing his back to something vertical he listened to gruff guns-for-hire discussing their cargo's relevance. His enemies were in a state of total unawareness. They often were. 

* * *

Ready to defend himself the concrete of a garage was dusty but spacious enough for him to manage. "Tell me what I wish to know while you are still conscious." 

Those circling eyed the onyx of his form fitting getup. Each mask lens yellowed, menacing, and of a wild cat's. 

"You're learning nothing today, freak. Kill him!" 

Several commenced an attack as he rolled to avoid three knife thrusts tossing two energy constructs of his own. Both spun in a wide arc felling four of the ten with thousands of volts. The still standing six wouldn't fair any better. He jumped in place lifting hard boots into the chins of two. Catching the hand of another he brought the back of his fist against his temple spinning his waist to heel the fool rushing him. 

He threw the larger ruffian he held breaking his wrist as one of the final two fired a pistol to no avail. Each shot ricocheted from him terrifying the terrified. His stalk deliberate he clutched the gunman's hand. Breaking his fingers and ignoring the shriek of pain a final strike silenced his misery. He examined every inch of what he stood among. Moving to a sliding door he pulled to lower it sealing himself and his prey within. 

* * *

"The next shipment!" 

He kept an awoken brute against dried wood. Serrated ferrous for fingertips not yet opening skin the goon's perspiration ran as beads over his quiver. 

"C-Chill man! I'm one'a the new guys. Nishik made it clear to not botch this gig. Said the guy these are going to ain't no one to screw over. The next shipment's here in city. That's all I got! Give me a b-break!" 

Menacing pressure on his throat until a black chop struck his neck. The one to blame chose to peruse. Nearby crates, each marked, the company's logo was more than familiar. There was expensive china, trinkets that belonged in a museum, and he figured it was all for show. It took the rip of aluminum to end inspection. The new arrival tore a barrier away like it was tissue paper. 

"T'Challa," she said with prepared monotone. 

His armor and its shadowy tint contrasted the vibrant of hers. Her walk, hell her height even, could intimidate those that were mere mortals. All mere mortals but the one between she and a group of unconscious numbering in the dozens. 

"I see you have begun in a fashion that suits you." 

She had the nerve, whether he liked it or not, and she owned it. 

"Why are you here, Wonder Woman?" 

Any dryer and she would deem his tone offensive. She gave him nothing in the way of a smile, not yet, folding mighty arms across an heirloom older than his oldest relative. 

"The same reason you are, Black Panther. I've chosen to offer my aid. Your father is a dear friend of my mother. It was only natural she would ordain I intervene. And unless you want Everett K. Ross pestering you for the entirety of your time on American soil I suggest you get over the fact that I'm helping," she said barely in the mood to abide the sour of his. 

He turned from her resolve getting back to work. "If you insist on ignoring my request, offer your opinion. I've narrowed down all active arms dealers in the States with the Kimoyo Card." 

She followed his reveal of a tool designed only for data collection and storage. But one of his scientific breakthroughs. Any form of information could be his at a moment's notice. She scanned its projected feed in awe of the creation and its creator. A holographic display was bright as it suspended itself. 

"We should study this in private. My condominium is not far from this location. Analyze whatever else you will but do so quickly." 

She couldn't see his smirk. Some things regardless of age and change in status never altered. Diana stood there, a being straight out of myth and certainly looking the part. He struggled with a shred of it. A tinge of wanting to break character if only to acknowledge the visual. 

"Any reason to have me to yourself," he said making light of it. He disregarded her nonchalance though it was no less apparent. 

"You've always had a very vivid imagination, your highness," she said able to one-up when it suited her. No daylight savings time outdoors. Barely after five and it was the pinnacle of dusk. Flickering bulbs were steady so the luminescence could hit his build, just right. 

"I'll meet you there," he said as a guarantee. 

The man sized creature facade really did the trick. She had to commend him on the spectacle though she wouldn't. Nothing more was said. T'Challa wouldn't use the front door, the ripped away door, and Diana let it be, standing like an immovable object when he scurried up the wall and out of sight. He must have notified the police without her any the wiser because sirens homed in. She had to give him another point for style. The next to leave she did so with a leap into levitation. She flew from the structure's entrance darting into the sky like a gorgeous mortar round. The pop trailing her flight was loud as it was sudden. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

His eyes roamed her dress. Strapless, matching heels black as the silk falling past her shoulders, no cuffs and her cosmetic application was next to nil. She could see his coarse curls as his mask was unworn. She also gained his undivided as she spoke of what could work. The Kimoyo Card projected blueprints and dossiers above a marble countertop. One large decorated room, her studio apartment, and despite their presence he could tell it was unlived in. 

"His name is Vladiscov Nishik. He owns a nightclub in Midtown called the Ivory Room. It's a front. His true occupation is the selling of human organs on the black market. His victims are often not given a say in the matter." 

Seated on Diana's sectional T'Challa leaned forward to ponder tack. "I infiltrate through the building's back as you gain access to his private quarters." 

"Yes," Diana said. "He only invites the most beautiful women to VIP. Hopefully, I am to his liking." 

"You should have no trouble in that regard." 

Diana's grin from ear to ear her attention set on the details. "I need you to clear any of the security personnel around the perimeter. Nonlethal, T'Challa, which should be a given." 

"Tsk. You think me a heartless murderer?" 

"I think you a king placing the needs of his people before his own." 

Rising a partially garbed T'Challa found a patio door, he stopped before it, its blinds lifted to let in Manhattan lights. Diana's shuffle he listened for until he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned catching the assurance in her gaze as silence took its time. The rough of his glove found her high cheekbones as he dared to caress one. Unable to contain her smile she remembered a mischievous boy of old. Not a stoic king she couldn't pick apart. His hand remained where it was. 

"We leave in thirty minutes," she whispered and her accent, like his, was a tempter. 

T'Challa left her to walk the length of a hallway and its tan walls. Diana looked to her carpet to fight an urge and not its color. She powered off the device just left of her kitchen sink and thought nothing else of it. The night was adolescent and theirs were tasks in need of might before majesty. 

* * *

Sidewalks were packed, the hour was late and voices filled more than the air. People with money and without waited as a line pouring from their favorite hotspot. The bouncer like a lumbering giant at its entrance the first to gain entry were women he knew his superior would choose. The limousine pulling to a halt before it could've stopped time. The one emerging snatched awe from anyone curious. Her dress suffocating the well muscled, hourglass of her shape she played her role well. 

"Am I allowed to come in?" she slipped through her winning smile. 

The one in her way took hold of a velvet rope and moved it aside. "Of course. Enjoy your visit to the Ivory Room, miss?" 

"Prince. And I shall." 

Unnoticed as his "habit" merged with the dark another crept to the building's side to peek around it. He counted, more like marked, a few decked out in tuxedos. The Glock grips poking from their slacks were more pressing. Diving from cover he tossed twin needles. His precision perfect a pair dropped before gaining any knowledge of who or what. He made his next move after the paralyzing agent took effect.

* * *

She surveyed anything enclosing her, loud music, merriment. Her looks won her results quicker than she assumed. His skin veined and white as paste someone interested stepped in her path. 

"—Excuse me. Mr. Nishik wishes to speak with you for a moment. If madame wasel' doesn't mind." 

"It would be my pleasure," she said following his lead. 

Discovering the back of the club they entered a corridor. Finding doors of a mahogany finish he bowed as he opened one. What she entered was porcelain floored and wide, lit bright enough for her to scrutinize every inch of it. Ready and waiting was her host. Withered to the point of malnourished his head was completely shaven and his suit cost more than what he paid the lot of his staff. Chosen groupies seated around him weren't scoffing yet. 

"Ah. Our gorgeous friend decided to join us. If you would please," he said gassing her up. 

She continued the act as he snapped his fingers. One girl left her spot so she could take it. The buxom, twenty-something leered as the one she didn't like offered a sure of herself grin. 

"Leave us. All of you." 

The entertainment, his guards, each would search the other for meaning. 

"We'll be outside, sir." 

When alone with her Nishik voiced what he knew. 

"—Diana, of Themyscira, I trust." 

"That is what I'm called at times," Diana said casually. 

Nishik stood, his back facing her. "He warned me of your impending arrival. His command was to have you killed immediately. You and I both know that would be foolish. No. I have a more lucrative proposition in mind." 

He turned to offer it, a gentle roll of his wrist to spin vintage chardonnay. 

"—I will pay you to be my consort. Having the Princess of the Amazons protect me and my business would be abundant, in more ways than one. The continued success of my endeavors for me. Anything your heart desires for you." 

Diana snickered barely believing his gall and the waste of her time. "You think me so shallow as to debase myself? You're a murderer and but one of the god of war's lackeys. The Wakandan official, N'Kabe. You have knowledge of his death. After you relinquish that information I'll personally see to it that you receive your just desserts." 

She watched the millionaire drop his glass. The shift of his eyes from their green to a flickering red. 

'A pITy, DiAnA. sO cApAblE yEt So VeRy PrEdIcTaBlE.' 

"Ares?!" 

The club owner's body not his own the sentiment proved when it twitched. When spiked fur of platinum stood on end, bulging, ruining his outfit. His teeth acid soaked fangs and his stance well over nine feet the mutation ceased. 

" **Only the master saying hello. Wakanda's future is the least of your concerns, little Amazon.** "

* * *

He contested twenty whittling them down to a few. His fists met the heads of a pair. He disabled their weapons after snatching them. He used a hallway wall to support his pace, his push from it, bringing a hard kick into the jaw of another, a spin to slice the ankle of their partner crowding his space. Positioning utilized to his advantage bullets peppered everything including his physique. 

His lunge at the culprit kept with a roll as he tossed him into the ceiling. All opposition felled he overheard a tussle behind twin doors. Kicking them in he glimpsed Diana carrying a beast into something hard as he tried his best to choke her. Distracted by his arrival the once frail Nishik swiped the Amazon with the back of his mitt sending her through plaster, tears ripping along her dress as she slammed into an office and its sole file cabinet. 

" **King** **T'Challa** **. Does the Panther have any last words before he dies with the Amazon?** " 

"Yes. Vibranium daggers." 

T'Challa lobbed glowing shards into the brute watching five dig and burn. Nishik's shoulder met his chest to send him through the entrance, a hallway stopping his slam against it. Nishik dropped into a kneel as he felt Diana kick the back of his knees. She rose her hands bashing them against his skull, the worth of it plunging him through carpeted flooring into happiness below. She jogged to her comrade's slump. 

"Are you injured?" she asked helping him stand. 

"No," he said no worse for wear. 

Making haste they jumped to land between debris and the panicked. T'Challa at Diana's side he stole a glance at her night wear. What was left of it. 

"The look suits you." 

"Funny. I would remain vigilant. Whatever Nishik now is he has superhuman strength." 

Steeling themselves their opponent lost all reason. Diana thanked Hera that all innocents evacuated the peril to come. T'Challa only contemplated a myriad of ways to defeat an opponent. Nishik threw a lunging fist into Diana's. Her foot thrown against his chin brought the creature from his own. His back met a vacant bar to crumple. He shattered anything under a foot drop, snorting through drool. Diana ripped away pieces of fabric revealing her bodice, briefs and lasso. She took her extension in hand. T'Challa rose an uppercut into the running Nishik's gut ducking a slash. Diana used the distraction to loop him by the ankle. One pull brought his sternum to her elbow. Dizzied, T'Challa struck his jaw with an airborne boot slicing through it. 

Diana drew Nishik by the neck to sock him again, a turn of her waist to throw another blow from her left and his right. T'Challa worked in tandem to avoid her progress and resume his own. Taking the brunt of it from all directions overwhelmed which said more for his attackers. Diana's final lasso flick wrapped Nishik's waist. Turning her arms drew him into a twirl. Letting go she watched Nishik rupture brick and metal yelling obscenities along the way. He tumbled into an alley, his back slamming against a dumpster's rust. Two were quicker to emerge as Diana kept him trapped within her lasso. Her hold tightened on its length. At the ready T'Challa witnessed many times what would come next. 

"Hestia's lasso compels you to speak," Diana began. "Is Ares responsible for N'Kabe's death?" 

Red sparked in Nishik's watch. 

'My WiLl Is AbSoLuTe, GiRl.' 

Diana glanced to T'Challa first. Wakanda's king listened for a heart rate without the need to crouch. His keen senses caught no pulse as he ascertained truth. 

"He's dead," he said. 

Whatever manipulated the deceased Nishik forced his mouth into a curve. 

'SoOn.' 

T'Challa recognized another fact. "Diana!" he yelled tackling her to shield her body from the blast at their backs. The ringing in their ears took its time. When able to, he grabbed her hand, pulling her with him. She looked to his pause as a fire roared but a few feet from it. 

"You do know that I'm invulnerable?" she said flattered as she was amused. 

"Of course," he said. "I just—" 

Latching onto his arm, leaping into an ascent, she let it be. Nishik's club burned as sirens rang. Standing on the rooftop of an adjacent business as a pair they followed the chaos. Regret left no room for celebration.

* * *

Communing with his father's second wife he sat restless before her image. A hologram, Ramonda could see his weary. How he’d yet to shed the garb bestowed him and many kings prior to his rule. He only focused on the digital outline of his mother's dreadlocks. Her beauty spry for a woman in her years but her opinion, her wisdom, mattered. His conference with her was the only light in a hotel suite's bedroom a chair held his lean into it. Gloved digits against his temple he contemplated an issue. The only issue. 

" **As you've run off and declared war on half the** **world** **I'm just here to remind you. Primary among your duties as king is to select a mate for yourself.** " 

"Mother." 

" **This is not your** ** _mama_** **nagging you. This is the Queen Mother of Wakanda reminding the king of his responsibilities to the realm.** " 

T'Challa's eyes met his lap, finding Ramonda's, eventually. 

"The job is not even half done. I made a promise that everyone responsible for N'Kabe's death will—" 

" **The best way to honor your subordinate is to protect the royal bloodline.** " 

"I-I take all of my responsibilities very seriously. But dropping everything to pick a wife now is just—" 

" **Easy. You've dated** **a number of** **spectacular women over the years. I know you've pined for one since you met her. She is the perfect candidate. Beyond the literal sense.** " 

He didn't need Ramonda's aid to think of the woman in question. "Diana is—the very picture of success. An earnest woman in no need of a man's, nor king's, validation. What we had is no more. And she's not Wakandan. She's not even African." 

Ramonda's grin spoke volumes. It was the reaction a mother gives her disgruntled child. 

" **I have consulted the Amazon queen. She would never buy it. Don't expect me to. We can speak of whatever you wish,** **T'Challa** **, but don't insult my intelligence. You know better.** " 

T'Challa's only choice was eye contact with the ruler of Wakanda in his absence. The one he confided in most. She was right again. 

* * *

 _"She emerges like Aphrodite. Gods, she's killing me."_  

 _Several of her sisters dawdled by one of the grove's better springs. Each sought to lust as their princess rose from its surface, her proportions glistened and in full view._  

 _"I thought she and_ _Kasia?_ _"_  

 _"And_ _Meghara_ _and_ _Evrayle_ _. I don't even know."_  

 _They followed the gradual of her motion as she grazed cool water with her fingertips._  

 _"No. She now favors Wakanda's prince, Io."_  

 _"Does she?"_  

 _"It is her seventeenth birthday. We have survived_ _generations_ _yet they experienced a childhood together. A minuscule amount of time among the living. Diana has always been curious of the world beyond our shores. He is her escape. Her outlet."_  

 _Io looked to the Amazon speaking as she remembered circumstance. She then followed Diana's nudity in the distance._  

 _"The queen trusts the_ _Wakandans_ _. More than I deem she should. I believe what you speak to be true. Look at her, ecstatic that_ _T'Challa_ _will step foot upon our soil again."_  

_Sitting at the spring's edge those guarding their princess savored down time. Diana's imagination ran wild—and a strapping young man was the focal point._

* * *

_They stirred up more than afternoon trouble. She leapt at her opponent throwing punches forceful enough to fold steel. A palm in his face as a jest, turning in her flip over him to throw her heel into his spine he felt sand against a cheek first slide. Pushing from it he didn't have to wait for her to meet him instantly stopping her blow with a wrist._  

 _"Almost!" he cried as much an adrenaline junkie._  

 _She hated his smile attacking like she wanted to kill him because she wanted to kill him. Their knees locked sending earth in every direction, uprooting nearby bark. Her grab was then caught by his and held._  

 _"Do you yield?" he asked._  

 _"Never," she said, the warrior within telling._  

 _A foolish question. He knew before asking. She gave him another in the form of her kick lifting him when it struck his chin. Swiping his_ _ankle_ _she took him from the air to slam his head into the shoreline. He groaned and she won. She didn't need to say she did_ _stealing_ _a seat on his back._  

 _"—Ow," he said spitting grains he almost swallowed._  

 _"You have much to learn, sweet prince," she said grinning._  

 _She swept more of what they relaxed on from his hair. His back wet like her loin cloth she tucked her feet into woven sandals._  

 _"Pure luck, Diana. Nothing but pure luck," he said taking a moderate siesta. Her sitting lowered into a straddle. A massage his reward she pushed at his bruising._  

 _"_ _Mmm_ _. More of that."_  

 _"I spoil you," she said with a sultry he couldn't see._  

 _"My current headache would disagree," he said._  

 _He turned catching her slipping for once. "Now that we're alone. What was it you needed to show me?"_  

 _His pelvis between the smooth of her thighs she wrapped his neck with her fingers. Leaning a gaze towards his, trading a kiss on the lips he pursed she held him down because she wanted to._  

 _"Bold," he said._ _“Was that it?”_  

 _"Hardly," she said moving a sliced peach into view._  

 _She handled the token with the utmost care. "This first. This is to go around your neck. You mustn't take it off, not even for a moment. Do you understand?"_  

 _"Is?"_  

 _"Yes. It's a nectarine pit. It signifies a bounty, hoped for but not yet achieved. Will you wear this, Prince_ _T'Challa_ _of Wakanda?"_  

 _Diana pressed her mouth to lavender removed from the fruit's shell. A gem laced with a browned, thin strap. "_ _Óti_ _eísai_ _gemáti_ _yposchéseis_ _," she said._  

 _She dressed him with it as his confusion of the ritual piqued._  

 _"Diana, I'm afraid I don't quite—I don't wish to offend you. This obviously means something, but—"_  

 _"I'm courting you,_ _T'Challa_ _. In the manner of my people. This is the first stage. It's not an engagement in the normal sense—it's more—call it a bond of consideration. To determine our compatibility. Our propensity."_  

 _"Do I get a say in this at all?"_  

 _"Well. You may refuse. Should you choose to I will have to pierce your heart with my sword."_  

 _She kept quiet at her second to mock him as he bought into it. He always bought into it._  

 _"That was a joke."_  

 _"—You would make for a terrible jester."_  

 _She tapped his stomach with a fist in the stand to let him up. Her chuckle remained lovely. "Come. We will invite trouble if we don't return to the palace courtyard."_  

 _T'Challa_ _glanced to the switch of her hips. Diana also took her time hoping he would admire more than her gams. Rising, he soon followed, humored as he was lax. Neither witnessed those keeping watch. Some discerned, with and without weapons in hand, their interaction running its course._  

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a sanctuary to anyone in need of it. A separation, however temporary, from superhero and diplomat. While a living quarters waited on its fourth floor the second kept the ambassador's office. Its oval balcony overlooked the Upper East Side. Most curious was a place for Diana's armory housing blessed weapons and gear maintained by Io, the greatest blacksmith her race produced. A shrine dedicated to her mother featured Hippolyta's infamous armor, blade and aspis. The room's true marvel was a portal acting as a doorway to, among other places, her heart. It was a nice monument to the ancient—though the window springing from T'Challa's wristwatch captured his intrigue. As did a three-dimensional visage he adored. 

"A dead end, Shuri," he said to the stable image of his sister's youth. "And an answer." 

" **Less cryptic please. The suspense is all but killing me.** " 

T'Challa glanced for anything surrounding him. The ivory marble of its pillars. None of its worth brought him peace of mind. 

"Nishik was responsible for N'Kabe's death. As expected. I'm more interested in the one he served," he finally thought to share. He didn't think to put a shirt on as he’d get back to his exercise no matter what. Shuri's hologram was an attractive reminder of their mother. It was her coy grinning that made him wonder. 

" **Diana has you pegged.** " 

"What?" he said engaging her. 

" **Mama does too. We both know why you've yet to return.** " 

T'Challa chuckled lightly used to her derision. "Humor me." 

Shuri's cheekbones rose with the comely smile she had yet to drop. " **We knew it would happen the moment you two were together again. I've heard** **all** **the stories. I've had a firsthand account to how smitten the both of you are. So predictable.** " 

"Am I?" T'Challa smirked again. "As much as I'd love to debate that I have work to do." 

" **Yes. Right.** ** _Work_** **. I know you're the king with super powers and everything but you're still my brother. Please be careful.** " 

"Concern? From you?" 

" **No. A plea I know won't penetrate that thick skull of yours.** " 

"Hmph. I appreciate the attempt," he smiled watching Shuri vanish with the fall of his hand. The device coating his wrist folded into itself dropping to the bench he held it over. His eyes remained on Hippolyta's armor. The quiet to follow remained in kind. 

* * *

Someone of considerable importance the princess was no stranger to generous. This held when it concerned her staff. Finding her way through corridors, seeking a space to think straight, those at her sides and back were in desperate want of her sanity. They certainly pecked at it. 

"We were due in Dallas for your book signing. Three hours ago!" 

If she sighed any harder she’d have blown a hole in the floor. "It cannot be helped. Assisting Wakanda's king is time consuming. We—" 

"Have to reschedule. It's not like you to shirk your engagements, Diana." 

"Shirk them? That was the last—" 

"More importantly, the budget for the upkeep of this place is beyond feasible. We need to talk cutbacks. Major ones." 

Finding it Diana took a spot behind her desk. Fingertips on her temple stress boiled over. 

"ENOUGH! Gods! Can I just sit down, in my chair, at my desk for five minutes, and then begin addressing each of your problems for what will probably be the remainder of my day?!" 

In their silence her team thought of a better approach. Diana longed for some semblance of returning to a daydream she never woke from. 

"Some of this could be addressed via e-mail," she said much calmer. 

"You don't answer your e-mail." 

"You don't answer your e-mail." 

"You don't answer your e-mail." 

"You don't answer your e-mail." 

"You don't answer your e-mail." 

She had to chuckle if only for their being right. "Well, that is precisely what I wish to do now. Miss Prince needs five minutes. Alone." 

All but one filed from her patience, suave and dressing the part, he preferred close cropped hair. He was nothing like the apple of her eye. 

"Bad day?" 

"Thomas? Have you been standing there the whole time?" 

"Yeah. I sort of drifted in with the tide," Thomas said not yet drooling at the mouth. 

"Very resourceful," Diana said, busied. 

Taking a seat on her desk Thomas also noticed the obvious. It was Casual Friday and she chose a white collared under a black blazer, partially unbuttoned. 

"Thank you for standing in at City Hall," she said. "Attending that press release wasn't an option. If I never hear the words monthly and bulletin again it would be too soon." 

"Heh. Who knew staying at a mansion once or twice a week, having people waiting on you hand and foot could be so—torturous?" 

Diana enjoyed her chair's soft, her smile more. The cards were in her favor for once. "Honestly? I adore this. Wearing a suit, having great people vex me. You all have been integral to an irksome transition. Nevertheless, get out. I'm busy." 

She expected Thomas to smirk again. She didn't think to see the small bag he pulled at. "I bring good tidings. A welcome back boss prezzie." 

"Is it food?" 

"Not quite." 

Two rubies sat fixed within the fabric she reached for. Both were her favorite color. 

"Thomas. This is," she gasped. 

"Just my way of saying thanks. Running you ragged warrants it." 

Diana didn't need the lasso not on her person to gauge reason. "And rewarding my patience was your only intention?" 

"Yes. Well, no. Just take them anyway. I noticed you usually wore star earrings. Figured these could be a flashier alternative." 

Adorning her lobe with one as they spoke she thought nothing of it. 

"They clip on? Excellent," she said. "Invulnerable skin has a way of disagreeing with piercings. Most piercings." 

"I'll bet." 

"You have my gratitude." 

His smile was that of a salesman's, broad and toothy. He thought expensive dental work would do it. 

"You'd have more of mine if you just agreed to a night out. Nothing crazy. Just two friends chatting it up inside a coffee shop, or restaurant." 

Diana put her new earrings back into their compartment. "I can't allot the time. Sending the Dora Milaje back to his country means T'Challa's protection falls to me. It is my sworn duty to oversee his activities here." 

"Ah. Right. _Him_. And how is our visiting king?" 

Thomas caught Diana's spreading grin as she stared off. His bout with envy was subtle enough for her to not witness it. 

"I only wish he would rest. He utilizes the armory for days at a time. He's a brilliant inventor. And I would never discount his desire for justice but his fixation with obtaining it is unhealthy," she said at a loss. 

"So he didn't think to set up shop at his, y'know, own embassy?" 

"His staying here was my suggestion. It's not like we don't have the space." 

A losing battle her employee dropped the subject. Sort of. 

"Fair enough. If you can set aside an afternoon the offer still stands, princess." 

A friendly Diana listened to his attempts, amusing as they were to her, seizing a chance to unwind after he took his leave.   

* * *

Prone on a bench he pushed something tremendous from his chest. Exhaling, he let it lower a bit, the bar's ends a challenge to prop back up. Comfortable in something akin to sweats, opting out of donning shoes for a workout it went interrupted. She made her way toward his head and stopped to serve as a spotter. 

"Give me, a second," he said huffing through it. 

"Take your time," she said watching. 

He performed a final rep and she took hold of his burden. A simple grin for good measure she curled it easier than easily. Not surprised at her greater strength he sat up to catch his breath. 

"She returns," he said not so winded. "I’d heard that you were needed in the Sahara." 

"And I am back from the Sahara." 

"Did you at least give your foe a fighting chance?" 

Diana relished every second of the playing. "When have you known me to give my foes any quarter?" 

"Touche, Miss Prince." 

"—You've been in here for hours. Are you taking a reprieve from your quest for blood? Tartarus must've frozen over." 

Diana secured the barbell on a rack able to support it. T'Challa turned a glance toward her blouse and denim hip-huggers. Her cuffs were polished, and her hair freed she was as casual as the princess could appear. 

"You've been practicing your snark," he said thinking it funny. "I dare say it has surpassed mine." 

He caught the towel she tossed. Lost in wiping his face his friend combed his torso. The layer of sweat on a tempered body making it that much more alluring. He recognized the flush of her cheeks and regulated breathing as her heart thumped a mile a minute. Superpowered or not how she reacted to his charisma was the same. 

"You? Snark? It's not something you partake in. And no. Berating you is not why I'm here. I would rather remind you that we're in this together. Shutting me out doesn't fortify your aim." 

He lost himself in her gazing like she accused. "Clearly you've made up in your mind what that aim is." 

"Not entirely," she said. 

He could never lie to her. It frustrated that she could see through any facade he thought up. She ambled to him as a quiet armory was their backdrop. Ancient weaponry and equipment for wartime wouldn't interfere. Diana stopped herself an inch from him. There was nothing skittish to permeate the eyes fixing on his. 

"What would you have me do, Diana?" he asked annoyed. 

"In a perfect world? Stop this crusade that is slowly eating away at you. Spend the day as a normal man and not a troubled king. Let us talk. Eat. Relax. Simple. Tomorrow, we may continue if you'd like. But I won't be the one responsible for losing Wakanda's ruler." 

T'Challa never looked from the stare melting his resistance. "How melodramatic. I'm still me." 

"Are you? A twenty-six year old who spends every waking hour devising ways in which to murder his friend's murderer. You are not _you_ at all." 

"And now is when you choose to question motive?" 

"That would waste more time. Your motives always remain beyond anyone else." 

"Say what you mean to," he said nearly whispering. 

"I've said enough, your highness!" she said on the verge of yelling. 

He found nothing in the way of a retort. Alone, at temptation's mercy—they dared. T'Challa moved his right hand to cup the back of her head protecting it with his knuckles while he groaned loudly against her mouth. Diana would remember that sound and the way it vibrated against her lips, echoing into her mouth, for the rest of her life. She felt the blood course through her, hot and thick, as her skin bloomed under his touch. She had never wanted anything more than to feel his arms around her and his lips against hers. There was no United Nations assembly. No Wakanda. No revenge. Just that wish. T'Challa's lips enveloped her, owned her. A fire ignited inside as their bodies moved together, firm curves against unyielding steel. Diana inhaled frantically but it wasn't enough. 

Her head grew light. T'Challa swore he could feel her heartbeat they were so tightly bound together. His left hand trailed under the hem of her blouse to inch toward the bare skin of her lower back. He moaned again as his fingers spread across that valley, claiming it. He didn't need to see it to know that it was beautiful and precious. He kissed her firmly, begging her silently to open for him. Their tongues moved together slowly. He was unhurried. He kissed her lips and her cheeks, walking her to a corner of the room, hesitantly backing her toward the wall. His eyes were wary. 

"Is this all right?" he asked. 

She nodded, breathlessly. "If you want to end it, this, just tell me. I won't let things go too far—but I—need—" 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in. He pressed her gently against the nearest barrier molding his body tightly to hers. Every muscle, every plane of his was met by corresponding curves, fit yet soft. His hands traveled down her sides and to her hips, hesitating. She pressed herself more tightly to him in response. And all this time their tongues and lips explored never satisfied. His long fingers slid to her back and down so that they were cupping her two rounded, delicious arcs. He squeezed tentatively and smiled against her mouth when she moaned. 

"Hera help you, should you pause. Making me wait for this," she said, eager. He squeezed her again as it was the best way to oblige. 

* * *

 _She didn't remember why it started. What would happen when it did. How she got there. She dropped from a cliff edge, a buckler gripped into melee as martial was her trade. Those attacking her were the unfortunate. Decrepit blades tried to cut her down sliding off the shield she raised. She snagged the wrist of an undead ripping away an arm at the elbow taking a poison dipped implement for herself. Limbs were cleaved and separated with each twist at each response._  

 _"Where is he?!" she said through gritting teeth._  

 _The undead_ _couldn't_ _speak. Getting answers wouldn't be easy. She lobbed her golden disc into a chest line. Off with another head as her next slash was for one smothering her. It never smelled altogether in the Underworld. However unpleasant the odor she ignored it and a scorched sky. They called her Diana. Bestowed with eternal gifts: Aphrodite's beauty, Hermes flight, Herculean strength enabling her to move mountains, whom she searched for didn't love her gifts. He loved her. The princess trekked through the blackest muck of an even blacker entrance. No more bloodied utensils on her person not counting the lasso. That was no mere weapon._  

 _"WHY DO YOU COME HERE, GIRL?"_  

 _Diana didn't face a wall and its mouthing. Her resolve didn't leave. She just held her extension_ _if and when_ _her host wanted to test her further in spawning another group._  

 _"You know why I've come, lord of the Underworld," she said closing her eyes to remain even tempered. "Where is_ _T'Challa_ _?"_  

 _"WAKANDA'S WAYWARD KING? PERHAPS YOU SHOULD CONSULT MY NEPHEW. HE IS THE ONE OBSESSED WITH STAKING HIS CLAIM. YOU MUST KNOW OF IT. HIS LUST BURNS HOTTER THAN THE EREBUS PITS. I WONDER. DO YOU EVER CONSIDER THE WAYS IN WHICH HE WOULD RAVAGE THAT PERFECT PHYSIQUE? THE HUMAN YOU HAVE CHOSEN IS LESSER. YOU ARE LESSER FOR CHOOSING HIM."_  

 _She didn't back down from the grotesque, a dead end of parched corpses able to grin. Diana ignored the folly of it. Her skin, her armor, her scalp, was sullied by grime dripping from the cavern's top. Putting two and two together she had her fill of Death's jests. She didn't favor games. She despised losing them._  

 _"Send me to him. Now!" she barked._  

 _"REMEMBER YOUR PLACE, AMAZON! YOU ARE BUT LOST CATTLE PRIMED FOR CERTAIN SLAUGHTER. IF ONLY BECAUSE IT AMUSES ME, I WILL OPEN THE PORTAL."_  

 _Girding her reserves a seething gateway beckoned. Through its bright she could see dark. Nothing but dark. She didn't get to see beyond it._ Opening her eyes took her from hell to a king-sized mattress. The center of a mansion's bedroom. Nothing to hide her flesh but satin sheets and bracers that were a fine compliment. Another nightmare. To her it felt too real. She wouldn't be convinced until she saw him next to her. She forgot to close a nearby window, a cool breeze finding its way in, but he was there, a friend of old, her love for him unrequited and after years finally avowed. She didn't want to wake him just yet. She took a spot for her head on his chest. He was there and he was unharmed. 

* * *

Sunlight grazed her cheek yet she chose to sleep. Her night was longer than his. She woke to his doing the impossible. Head propped on her hand the bed was too soft to leave and she closed her eyes just to close them. 

"Communing with the Panther goddess?" she asked yawning. 

He opened his eyes to stand from hardwood.  

"I asked of mother's status," he said on the climb back into bed. Diana's pointer traced T'Challa's goatee as he slid closer. "Your dreams weren't as pleasant?" 

"Would it please you if I said yes?"  

"That would only prove me right." 

She stared into benevolence hoping to stay in bed with him all day. "The Nishik incident is troublesome. Such a dishonorable death. And Ares. His hatred of the Amazons is nothing recent." 

She chose not to tell all nor would she mention the gist of her dream. The wind outside was a little more boisterous. Birds carried themselves above the city communicating in their manner and it all seeped into the talk. 

"Consulting Menallipe is an option we shouldn't ignore," T'Challa said. 

Diana's fingertips stroked where they could. She didn't look from his chest's appeal until he cupped her jaw. 

"It seems we will need to," she said dragging a comforter to wrap herself. "I've failed, your highness." 

T'Challa stood to join her by the window's sill. Placing arms around her tight belly she moved her hair for his kiss. Eyes shutting again the moist of it on her neck was the confirmation she wanted. 

"How so?" he asked. 

She took advantage of another moment to consider it. "I wanted us to do this. To explore more than repressed care. Your subject's death couldn't have come at a worst time. Do you think me selfish for saying so?" 

He wondered of his shortcomings. "No. I've been so focused on revenge. Ignoring facts hidden in plain sight. We've already found N'Kabe's killer. It was always a matter of time. Never one of difficulty." 

Losing his train of thought she smelled too good. He always thought it because of her divine origin. She opened her eyes again to leave them forward. 

"I know," she said ready to compliment. "Once you've set your mind to something—" 

"—Is that doubt, princess?" 

"I'm done with doubt." Her comment to follow struck him like the mightiest blow to his belief. "Your mission is ours." 

"And what of Wonder Woman's mission?" 

"—The question for a question." 

How many weeks had she been trying to make men and women see the error of their ways? She believed they were too stubborn and greedy to realize a capacity for universal peace. She pondered whether she accomplished anything after the approved leave of her people. Stepping from her Diana's turn was for T'Challa's ending their moment. He laughed to himself. 

"For as long as I've known you there has never been anything to thrust you off-kilter. Nothing you fear because you aren't fearful. Now you wrestle with what course of action is best. What more should I learn?" 

On her approach he stood still as the finest statue, chiseled and unmoved. She wormed her stare into his and knew when she’d been challenged to spit it out. 

"Do you remember the Nemeseian Games, just after my birthday?" 

"Of course," he said pushing strands of what fell from her attention so she didn't have to. "You mentioned your being high strung beyond the usual." 

Chuckling she didn't mind his tease. "You're saying I'm not fond of losing." 

"Possibly," he said smiling to keep hers. "I still have the scars to prove it." 

"I wish I'd known we would wake to your jests," she said tapping his bare stomach with her knuckles. "Any more unintended insults?" 

"They're far from insults," he said taking her hand. "But continue. I'm interested in where I think this is going." 

Slipping his fingers between the spread of hers she turned pressing her back to him and silently thanking when he gripped her shoulder. The room's quiet was another blessing. 

"My mother always reminded me, _you don't enter a race to lose._ "     

 


	4. Chapter 4

Six feet of bulk, decked out in the blackest gear, he sneered. Tossing one of the staff into a bunch they stared at his deformed head: a skull smothered by flame that would never extinguish. With him, a femme-fatale, her hand facing them and her jumpsuit as dark. The wonder was her frigid white skin, shorter blue hair yet longer bangs, though her heart was colder. She enjoyed a grin at the energy wafting from her glove. A taunt to those that were already deathly afraid. 

"The boss says it's here. So, which one of you upstanding citizens will save everyone's life by telling me where?" the male said pulling at a technician's collar to hoist him from his feet. 

"—Looks like we have a winner." 

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" 

"The main turbine. Where is it?!" 

"I can't—I WON'T tell you!" 

His victim pawed at the unforgiving grip. Mouth parted he breathed a blast obliterating the man's head and neck. When he let go a beheaded corpse hit the tile. 

"See? He didn't behave. Anyone else feel like playing hero?" 

"I do." 

His comrade wrapped with a glowing rope, a fist's swing launching him through the wall, it was all he could see. Outdoors by the building's service area the culprit emerged from crumbling plaster. 

"You showed him no mercy. It seems only fair that I return the favor." 

"—Aww shit." 

He tried a lunge. Swinging two missed punches he felt the angered Amazon retaliate with a strike to his skinless temple, the blow driving him into a cliff's side. Pulling him out by the ankle, her spin was gradual, slowed, then a bit faster, then much faster. She released what she held at the pique of it ignoring his wail. Raising his view to see her chasing, mid-flight, destructive blasts sprung from his hands and mouth. 

Each missed her shifting out and around their path if they weren't repelled by her cuffs. Appearing above she extended boot heels into his solar plexus. The killer's plummet snapped like a larger whistle until he impacted terra firma splitting a great deal of it into metered cracks. Her hover one of confidence, arms folded over her breastplate her enemy's sight was slow in its fade to black. 

* * *

Blades shot from her fingertips at a somersaulting king. Springing into it he spun his kick to bash her cheek. T'Challa fell to his feet first, then stood his ground. 

"Louise Lincoln. I'd rather not harm you. Don't make me." 

"It's Killer Frost you arrogant bastard! Killer Frost!" 

Touching her bruised face, fuming, she followed up with a wave released from joined hands. He knew it could flash freeze anything it touched. He dove in succession to avoid it. Ducking, he jumped to let it graze his armor. And then he tossed it. Louise wouldn't gain the chance to blink. 

The sound leaving his tool, it no bigger than a thumbtack, nearly burst her eardrums. It shook the foundation of the building. Squeezing her head didn't help. Clenching her eyes made it worse. Falling to her knees the pain was so sharp! She eventually did blink and he did meet her with a right hook. Her skull hit the floor, hard, knocking her insensible. Scooping her up he threw her over his shoulder. As she was a victim of circumstance, someone in need of help, the quick victory was bitter-sweet. 

* * *

Diana arrived, triumphant and floating through the hole she had a hand in making. Her feet touching a crime scene she was patient as she watched his approach. He dropped someone smaller into a pile of one. His mask hid the disgust but nothing would do so for hers. She tapped the compact device in her ear. 

"Inform Superman upon his return," she said not taking her stare from him. 

 **"Will do,** **Wondy** **. Anything else? Dinner at** **Olso's** **tonight? Maybe a back rub after?"**  

"A pick-up for two, Stark. One male, one female. Subjects Atomic Skull and Killer Frost." 

 **"I already called it in. Iron Man, out."**  

Local forensic units took to the deceased. EMT personnel provided aid to survivors. The death of the blameless was permanent. Diana set about binding their catch, stepping back, taking a tight hold of her lasso. 

"The lasso compels you to speak. Why did you attack this location? What were you looking for?" 

Bright and red sparked in Atomic Skull's eye sockets. 

 _"—Diana of Themyscira—"_  

She glanced to T'Challa first. "Felix Faust?" 

 _"—Avatar of his reckoning—"_  

"Face me, coward!" 

Her frustration couldn't stop deja-vu as it continued to weigh on her. She received nothing, not thinking she would. 

"—Your highness. Will you join me outdoors?" 

She led a silent T'Challa from noise. Both peered into the sky to spot containment ships. An organization lived up to their competent rep. Mike O' Callaghan bridge spanned the Colorado River between the states of Arizona and Nevada. They stopped their progress at the base of it. 

* * *

"Nishik, metacriminals. Felix Faust is something else entirely. His voice trembled at your presence." 

"Only those not living in truth need fear my lasso. We didn't learn enough to rely on." 

Diana rested a hand on a balustrade, her gaze on the rapids by their conversation. The rhythmic sway of her locks surpassed picturesque, but it was something T'Challa had seen plenty of. 

"You're not convinced of something else," he said able to tell what was what. 

"—Stop reading my mind," she smiled almost cracking. 

"Stop making it so easy to." 

Her glare to follow read as fake. "I worry for your safety." 

"Yes. Because I'm so helpless." 

"Let me finish," she said, tickled. "The last influence we need in this mess is Felix Faust. Was he not destroyed in your last encounter?" 

He gave her quiet offset by assurance. 

"We'll cross that bridge should we come to it," he said. "No pun intended." 

As they were alone Diana took his hand. Staring at nothing again she found a respite. T'Challa's arms steered the course of a nation never colonized. Clutching but one of them usually worked for her. 

"I tire of this. Constant skirmishes. Needless babble about how and why we do what we can." 

"What do you suggest?" 

She glanced to the mask wanting him to remove it. 

"You were right earlier. We should designate a week. Perhaps two. Put an ocean between ourselves and anything else." 

"And what do you have planned for us during this, _week, perhaps two_?" 

"Words cannot paint a telling enough image," she wryly smirked. 

Several left ahead of them. It was loud. Aircraft thrusters burning brilliantly to push at several tons of metal and wiring. Canyons didn't see quiet for a while longer. 

"Then it's settled," Diana said when she could hear herself. "We must go to Themyscira." 

"You're not too tired?" T'Challa asked. "You seemed to struggle with Atomic Skull." 

"Please. I've yet to face a worthy opponent during my time among them." 

"Something may yet surprise you." 

"I doubt it." 

"You would." 

It took the roar of another thruster. Not her preferred aircraft but a product of his genius. She eyed its ebony sleek setting itself at their backs, not thinking to marvel only at its aerodynamic hull. Their shuffle towards it and conversation resumed they spoke of meaning. Some of those topics referred to life, liberty, content's pursuit. Most of it regarded old foes born anew. 

* * *

The cloak fastened to an emblazoned buckle around her neck was part of the ritual. An unmasked T'Challa let it be seated just behind her on the largest seashell half he’d ever seen. 

"Was there anything more when you won the race?" he asked. 

"Yes," Diana said done telling a fable. "More lessons learned." 

T'Challa wouldn't question why she was armed to the teeth. Three of her utensils were sheathed, prayed over to enchant and ready. A white dove sitting on her finger reacted to her chirp as she replied in its language, one light motion to send it on its way. She turned a grin assuming he had more questions. 

"Your mother requested I don my vibranium weave. She's aware we plan to row up in—whatever it is we're using as a raft?" 

"Your garb represents lineage. Your rank of office," she said looking once to verify. "She thought it best. I have to say, I agree." 

T'Challa relaxed and their transportation had plenty of room to. Diana wouldn't have to give him another check to understand. 

"You hide it well," she said. 

"What? I'm perfectly at ease with seeing her again." 

"Mmhmm." 

Sliding next to her he looked from her armor to eyes that would never fib. The light smirk was authentic. As they could see the beach, and the figure on horseback revealed at the sun's climb past dispersing cloud cover, they stood. The seashell holding them slowed before its bump into the shoreline. T'Challa tried to find words for what was no mirage. The Amazon queen was seated on a black stallion, its chanfron glimmering gold and layered to match its saddle. 

A winged helmet on its rider and, like Diana's, cuffs with etched symbols to join crimson stars. Her metallic bodice was like a woven tapestry of the rainbow's selection and her skirt of browned straps was made from animal fat. A torch in one hand, a spear in the other, her focus never left him. Before they could step to drifting sand Hippolyta singled him out with the tip of her weapon. 

"King T'Challa of Wakanda. Warrior. Claimant of my daughter's heart. Welcome back to Themyscira," she said with the base of a seasoned ruler. T'Challa kept his attention on the sharp too close to his chest. 

" _She's summoning you forward_ ," Diana said keeping her voice down. 

"There's no new enchantment to destroy men who set foot on the island now is there?" 

"Not lately, T'Challa. Will you keep a queen waiting forever?" 

"I will not." 

T'Challa stepped close enough as the queen's horse snorted, backing a bit. 

"I say again. Welcome back. You honor us." 

Hippolyta withdrew the threat of magic stained iron. Diana locked eyes with their visitor. Anything else wasn't her place. T'Challa dropped to one knee to lower his gaze. 

"The honor is mine, your majesty. Forgive me. It's been a while since I basked in your ageless beauty." 

Hippolyta ignored the sun's rise as it brightened the proceedings, the veil of a tangerine sky giving way to cyan, and the glister of otherworldly sand. She chose to only see T'Challa's lowered skull. Then Diana's pride in her chosen. 

"Kindly and precisely said. The sun rises. There are chores, and none, save us, to do them. Will you aid me, T'Challa?" 

T'Challa took his attention from the ground hoping to impart a known. "If I may. You can tell the others to stand down. I will in no way disrespect anyone or anything during my time here." 

Surprised at his capability to hear the hidden, the first talent she was reminded of, Hippolyta found her daughter's expression. 

"It will be done," she said. "Follow me." 

* * *

Amazon sentries stood guard before it. Pearlescent stone. A statue of the goddesses Hestia and Demeter erected to both sides of its entrance. Inside Diana conversed with one of their wisest. Menallipe spoke of future consequences as it was her task to. An intermediary those wishing to commune with the Olympians consulted her first. Her stola clean as it was silken the vine leaves of her headdress touched short, curly strands of blonde. 

"Mortals engage in their annual debauchery," she said, sweet toned. "It seems these times of the year bring about their worst attributes." 

Her doey eyes set on the princess. 

"What have you seen, Menallipe?" Diana asked. 

Menallipe instantly thought of Diana's youth. A blessing from their gods standing before her as an adult worthy of respect. Diana didn't understand the hesitation. 

"Many conspire against Wakanda's king. I need not tell you. Not all of their intentions are vile." 

"Ares doesn't intend to kill him? Harming him in some attempt at inciting my rage. He's certainly tried his hand at it before." 

Menallipe joined her by an opened window. Through it one could view most of the realm. Its landscape part enchantment, all peaceful, Themyscira contained many points of interest but its forests were lush as they were venerable. 

"Athena in her great wisdom speaks of his contempt and less of his prodding you for some response. Killing the Wakandan, N'Kabe, or influencing the one who would was a distraction. T'Challa is of more use to the god of war alive. He still tends to our queen?" 

"Dutifully," Diana said, chuckling, looking to the evening sky. "Mother used to coddle him. Time is rarely able to change what is genuine. He's a son she never birthed." 

"Another similarity you share. Hippolyta respected his father. She often claimed T'Chaka was a gem among marbles. When word of his death reached our shores—the queen mourned for days." 

The younger glanced to her elder. "You know of my dreams. What T'Challa and I will do. Are we—to be?" 

"It is difficult to say," Menallipe said carefully. She walked with Diana as they toured the grounds, stopping near a fountain and its sparkling water. 

"There are challenges that will continue to task even _your_ gifts. Some of which you have encountered. Some of which you have yet to. That doesn't include your being smitten." 

Smirking at her sister's joke Diana rolled her eyes. "Therein lies the issue. What time is there for us with the constant threat of the wicked? How do we even begin to maintain a relationship? Is it even possible?" 

Menallipe softly palmed Diana's flushed cheek before kissing it. "May Hera continue to watch over you. Fret not. Believe in my words, as you always have. Now. It is time for you to return to your mother. There are more tasks for you and our visitor." 

Like a parent, as all Amazons were, Diana embraced her. Women coated in bronze breastplates clutched their spears tighter when in her presence, each of them readied for death if it meant her salvation. They bowed as Diana stepped from the temple's doorway. They then watched her step from the ground. She waved in her rise, her parted smile bright as her lasso. She was their pride. They were hers. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"Hnnh!" 

She sprung from the abnormal fist nearly caving her skull in starting her morning with an Underworld escapee, and a small battalion. Archers fired arrows strong enough to penetrate its thick hide. Short sword in hand, a shield sparing her top, it was her comrade's turn. His agility putting wind to shame he sliced the back of its knee with his claws, his partner pushing from the ball of her foot. Her blade's sharpest end pointing she thrust it into the beast's most vulnerable organ. Its sole eye. 

It let out a bellow of agony as it lost balance, the region disturbed by its hefty step. Touching down from her float she awaited its decision. He wouldn't give it a chance to gauge one. His hand plunged into its gut. The other joined the first to cleave it open, deep red spilled upon he and a focused princess, followed by the splash of entrails. The creature of myth left that plane as a bubbling gel. Raising two fingers, Diana gestured. Several followed her direction though each would follow her into the pits of Tartarus. She soon had T'Challa to herself ever curious of the mask. More a full faced cowl it covered his expression when she desired to see it. 

"Doom's Doorway and opened are not words I thought to ever hear," he said. 

Diana sheathed her shield at her back sliding her blade between the worn leather over her skin. 

"This surprises you?" she said. "Perhaps you've forgotten our stroke of good fortune. How many is that? I've lost count." 

"Twenty-four. Twelve to twelve. And I doubt you've lost anything." 

She adjusted her cuffs paying him no mind. He wasn't a fool, picking up on the tension. 

"You've avoided me for two days," he said. "I trust Menallipe's guidance was your idea of precise." 

She kept her distance and he wouldn't close it, trying to avoid eye contact. Boisterous Amazons protecting but one of their forests not far from their debate it didn't change her mood. 

"What am I to you?" she asked wary to. 

"My best friend," T'Challa curtly said. "You know this." 

Diana laughed under her breath. There was a subtle shaking of her head like she expected his opinion. 

"And?" she stressed it. She then faced him, matching his poise, sincere as she could be. 

"—Determined to hear something else, it would seem." 

He’d seen the look she gave him. Used to getting her way it was the look she gave when she didn't. She turned her back to him as finishing their chore was more pressing. 

"Come." She took point. "There are several more to the south of the grove." 

T'Challa followed, stalked more like, which as a hunter was fitting. "You truly believe something could've slipped through? Forgive me if I don't." 

"How perceptive of you," she said nearly sighing. "Speculation will get us nowhere." 

If she sounded anymore perturbed he would have a mind to ask. But he knew two things: there are questions a man should never ask a woman—and there are questions a man should never ask an Amazon. 

* * *

For most the Underworld's existence was a miserable dream full of shadows, ill lit and desolate, barren of hope. A joyless place where the dead slowly faded into nothingness. Geographically surrounded by five rivers: the Acheron of woe, the Coctyus of lamentation, and the Phlegthon of roaring flames. Possibly the most discussed by men and their researchers was Styx, the river of an unbreakable oath by which the gods took vows, offset by Lethe of forgetfulness. Having traversed past these ghastly bodies of water they found themselves halted mere feet from a gate with a diamond's glint. Sleeping soundly was its sentinel: a gigantic, three headed canine. 

" _Too see it in person_ ," T'Challa whispered. 

Diana, prepared at his front, nodded lightly. " _Cerberus is unaware. We should sneak by him._ " 

" _Should we also stampede Hades' throne while we're at it?_ " 

" _Is the great *_ _Damisa-Sarki_ _frightened of a harmless mutt?_ " 

" _—Charming as ever._ " 

They covered a wall composed of wraiths being pulled apart. Cerberus released a grunt appearing to wake. Both held their breath, sticking to the darkness. One of its heads yawned, fell, licked its chops, but didn't rouse. Exhaling because she needed to Diana proceeded her companion in climbing the barricade in their way. Once over they squeezed through a stuffy crack. 

A dilapidated palace not their goal they chose a second passageway leading to an abyss, scorched orange and wisteria making up its air. Both knew it to be the place where souls were judged following death and where the wicked received divine punishment. Standing on a cliff overlooking trillions of the dead smothered by translucent fire, the sight was as familiar to T'Challa. 

"We should see to it that we don't join them," he said girding his loins. 

Diana hoped to bring his imagination relief. "Are you all right?" 

"I will be," he said. 

"CHAMPION OF ATHENA." The voice rang as if it was the atmosphere above, its origin never revealed. "IT IS NOT YOUR TIME." 

"Hades. You know why I've come. Repair Doom's Doorway and release whatever hold you have on my sister. We've done nothing to offend you." 

"OH? YOU ENTER MY DOMAIN. UNINVITED. YOU BRING YOUR MORTAL LAPDOG. I WILL DO AS YOU ASK, DAUGHTER BORN OF THE HUNTER'S MOON. BUT FIRST, A TEST, FOR YOU AND THE SO-CALLED KING OF THE DEAD." 

What he summoned, forty stories high, was his golem of singed flesh, patched and burned as it stood from the lake of anguish. Clutched in its grip was its blade of embroidered metallic. Steeling their bodies T'Challa lowered a stance as Diana pressed her back to his. The wind conjured by the giant's howl blew sod from their feet, crumbled the earth they stood on and brought fury to the environment. Diana jumped snatching T'Challa with her searing the air in her rush. She lobbed the king as he drew a fist opening it to pop one set of his talons. 

* * *

* _Damisa-Sarki_ _= The Panther_  

* * *

He didn't care for the rainforest setting. To him nothing could compare to Wakanda's variety. Whether it be the harsh winds of the Jabari Lands or the rich golden plains surrounding Birnin Azzaria. He entered to see one he never trusted tending to their find. The slab holding it was hot to the touch. It had to be, as the item never cooled. 

"They say animals get violent when they sense anger."  

It was her Northern British dialect. Rarely her spotted skin. Her flesh didn't tingle, the fur coating it didn't stand on end. She savored toying with a grinning madman of tall stature and a lean build. He buttoned his Armani silk jacket on the walk up. 

"Then get violent. I've always enjoyed that side of you, Barbara." 

He stopped in a sterile laboratory's center. Barbara narrowed the bright of her eyes, switching her wide hips, lifting a hand to flex her digits. Her claws were real enough. Her tail wagged as she circled him ogling like he looked good enough to eat. 

"Barbara never has this kind of fun," she growled like her namesake. She led him with a finger. His eyes on her bottom it appealed if ever it moved. Both stopped at what hummed and sparkled. "He can't be trusted." 

She glanced to his smile, a constant, but it inspired in ways she rarely commented on. Standing at her side he found her wild eyes again. She revealed fangs glistened with saliva at the thought of the hunt, the red of her wavy mane healthy like her physical condition. 

"Of course he can't. Wouldn't it be fun though? Letting Ares do the dirty work. Our reaping the benefits. My king won't be able to live it down." 

He shot her attention as Barbara stood at his back, her coarse hands lightly squeezing his broad shoulders. 

"I knew you were insane." She slinked to his left from his right "But color me intrigued." 

Shoulder to shoulder she took the item in hand to watch the erratic flare around its ruby sculpt. 

"We'll need to keep this under wraps. The god of war is no fool. Self-absorbed, yes. Utterly predictable, sure, but not stupid." 

"Gorgeous—you took the words right out of my mouth."  

He sneered clapping twice. The object they coveted disappeared into nothingness, leaving the pair to dote on future aims with no distractions.

* * *

"Are you enjoying yourself?!" Diana yelled straining to pull her lasso, its loop snagging a colossal wrist. 

Sprinting up its torso, activated mag-boots allowing his climb the agile T'Challa threw claws across its neck with the twist of his waist, spinning toes to slash away at more of it. Five, burning shards separated as he tossed them. He stepped from it. Their adversary stumbled against the undead in droves. Diana wrapped her fist with her lariat and jerked snapping its hand from its limb. It shrieked at the forced removal of its body part and loss of its weapon. Its lack of a face and ears couldn't pause their assault. 

"We've found an opening!" T'Challa shouted. 

Triggered devices left his fingers. Each contacting its elbow a violent expansion of energy dismembered it further. Armless, it resorted to trampling. He fell straightening his legs to twirl plunging faster. Diana's catch timed she flew with him to and fro to disorient, avoiding the golem's reach. She let her comrade go with a hurl. Her fist turned towards its shin feeling it shatter to dust hundreds of years in age from the force. It fell to its opposite leg, she rose above and behind its head, a quick toss of her tool seized its neck. 

Her lasso charred what it captured to ash. She held it in place, signaling. Feet flat on an edge T'Challa brandished a remote no bigger than his thumb. Bursts like controlled fireworks followed his press of it. Large chunks blown from the golem's frame each blast peeled it from dreariness until only an Amazon could be seen suspending herself. Diana closed the distance, moving herself to his side, staying airborne. 

"One of your new toys?" she asked. 

T'Challa left his kneel. "An experiment." 

Diana surveyed their surroundings soon resting her features on the dark. "Hades! We've played your game! Fulfill your promise! Release your hold on my sister!" 

"I promise you, Olympian, there _will_ be repercussions should you choose not to!" T'Challa cosigned. Neither could buy the sky's grunting like it was agitated. Its spark as it shined then quickly fading. 

"WRETCHED AMAZON. YOU HAVE EARNED MY FAVOR. LEAVE MY DOMAIN BEFORE I TRAP YOU AND YOUR MORTAL LETTING THE HARPIES PICK AT YOUR FLESH FOR THE NEXT TWO-THOUSAND YEARS!" 

T'Challa searched in vain. "Accepting his generosity might be in our best interests." 

"Take hold of me. And try not to squirm so much." 

"I despise being carried." 

"I could always leave you here." 

Taking her forearm she soared as if he was weightless. Wherever the exit lingered they would arrive at the speed she decided on. She strained Hermes blessing until the doorway she sought provided a brightness so unlike everything surrounding them. She brought him with her, not presumptuous, and like her T'Challa couldn't help but think on their defiance of a god and living to tell of it.

* * *

Her people filed into the palace throne room to bear witness. Three kept watch guarding their queen. Flawless brown skin, her dreads dropping from a nicked Phrygian helmet was the great general Philippus. Beside her, the deadly Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, her piercing green eyes narrowed on a foreigner as her drawn tresses nearly grazed mosaic glass. Hippolyta stood as T'Challa removed his cowl and took one knee. The queen's heavy, golden linothorax caught the area's tint in conjunction with it reflecting from her crown. Her strong arm held a sharpened gladius, its tip brushing his scalp. 

"Rise, T'Challa," she said. "Let those who have chosen to be present hear me. This man is an ally to us all. For he has protected the princess and proven his valor in defeating the spawn of Hades. Doom's Doorway is sealed, once more. Ruler of Wakanda, friend to the Amazons, accept this token." 

Hippolyta offered the blade and its gleaming hue. One tap from the butts of spears solidified the gesture. The faces of warriors most would never lay eyes on were blank, but stunning. 

"The Sword of Atlas." Hippolyta took her time. "A gift for your courage." 

T'Challa nodded, taking hold of it. Diana stepped to his fore aware of the ceremony's import. She kept up appearances. 

"This is a rare honor," she said. "You are the first outsider to receive it." 

The inquisitive sort T'Challa vowed to get to the bottom of her attitude. All eyes rested on their quiet and it felt as if the room was emptied save for their dueling stares. 

"Thank you, princess," he said. 

Hippolyta allowed their leave though she also encouraged it. The palace grounds lined with vibrant posts they followed a walkway. It wouldn't take longer than it should to tread a beach and its sifting rim.

* * *

"—Now. Will you tell me what I already know?" 

Diana wished T'Challa wore his cowl as when he had it was easier to ignore him. She envied his brilliance, his ability to ascertain whatever he needed if it was favorable. 

"The manipulation of my sister, Anaea. The gods play games and we—we remain the butt of every ruse," she said taking a breath. 

He let her vent. 

"I plan on staying. To be sure that Hades isn't in league with his nephew. I assume you wish to leave?" 

T'Challa was cautious but not too cautious. When he approached Diana stood firm. She allowed his fingertips to graze where her neck met her jaw. The claws were never fully retracted. She reached for his wrist gentle with her squeeze of it. 

"If need be," he said only wanting to please. 

She hated his consideration of her too. Slow when he pulled his body to hers, holding her head in place, it was only to gain her undivided. He could study her for an eternity never fully able to grasp how someone so ravishing could exist. 

"This silence is your answer," he said because she said nothing. 

She looked from him to wind tossed sand, not ashamed and inattentive. When her eyes met his again both were steady. 

"Wait for me. At the embassy. I'll return in three days' time," she said. 

She thought to give him a guarantee pressing her mouth against his though hers was softer. The patient exchange ending after several seconds he continued to analyze and she stared with intent wanting him to stay as long as she would. She bit her lower lip. 

"Areto and Scyleia will follow you to Themyscira's veil. Beyond our waters, you'll be on your own." 

T'Challa took a step back pulling her hand because she had yet to release his. He then slid his cowl, half worn, over the rest of a sure expression. Finding the raft in waiting his trek was short. Climbing aboard what appeared to be sturdy he could row himself as two oars were at the ready. The sea murkier than his garb its surface matched the ambience. 

"Goodbye, princess," he said, and it read as forever. 

His transport took him further from Diana's standing alone. T'Challa could see another walking to her back and it may as well have been her twin. Trailing her mother were Philippus and Artemis carrying cressets and looking to Diana, as Hippolyta would. Four cast in fire's warmth and only one followed T'Challa's leave. 

"Diana," Hippolyta said on the approach. "You wished to speak in private?" 

Diana turned. Her glance fell again as if she struggled. Hippolyta could see the doubt coupled with a need to unwind and not gaining the proper chance to. The princess held her chin higher remembering herself. 

"I did, my queen." 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**_10 Days Longer..._**   

* _...For those who missed the induction of Themyscira as a member state to the United Nations we'll now cut to a snippet of her powerful speech that took the world by storm last week. "_ ** _My intention was never to stir unrest. Though it was hard fought, I won the right to serve as emissary for my people, charged with the mission of bringing peace to mankind. With the cooperation of your leaders I’ve utilized a temporary identity to acclimate to your varied cultures. Diana Prince is merely a tool allowing me to learn at my own pace, and without interfering with the day-to-day function of society. I’m grateful for Metropolis University's patience with a student foreign to your precepts. I’m grateful for the kind words and support of so many. And I, Diana of Themyscira, promise to continue my ordained task with nary a lull in my effort, for all people, no matter what color or creed._** _" Words from Wonder Woman herself. We'll be back with more on the_ _Themysciran_ _sensation and her recent role as diplomat, after these messages..._ *  

The broadcast above an embassy's den doors he paid it no mind. His attention set on a projection springing from his wrist. It was no watch known to man yet the device could form faces. The daily lives of his citizens a nation away. A memorized thump inched closer. Skin tight leggings, a tighter sweater dress and calf boots inched with her. Ambrosia fragrance blew his mind and all but burst his olfactory receptors.  

"What happened to packing it in for the day?" he asked, expecting her and turning.  

"I go where I’m needed," she let him know.  

"Without consulting anyone?"  

"I must have forgotten that I needed permission." She pat at his top's wrinkles. Any excuse to touch.  

"Is Anaea alright?" T’Challa asked.  

"—The headaches have stopped," Diana said, hesitant. "She remembers nothing."  

No one else present, privacy at last, their voices remained lowered. Their relationship old but new he occasionally wrestled with ideas. Royalty courting royalty. Irony again since his worries were rarely hers. There was still another question, the question, and if mentioned he knew he'd get an earful.   

"Does your mother know of my asking?" he said.  

" _Your_ asking?" she poked fun.  

"You know what I meant," he sighed watching her small mole as she was close enough.  

"I intend to tell her in depth. Her, Kasia, Meghara, Evrayle."  

"Friends of yours?"  

"Friends. Companions. What those in this society call exes," she confessed in all seriousness.  

Somehow the indestructible cuffs shrouded by her sleeves felt snugger. A few of her staff members walked by so they paused. Changing the subject, she thought it would work. Her wiles seared his resistance when she watched his clothes. He made time for the latest fashions when he could.  

"I remember when you believed wearing next to nothing was in style," she said.  

T’Challa’s refined sensibility had yet to leave. For a moment it would. "Collared shirts and slacks must not be spruce enough. I should consult you more often."  

"You cannot afford my advice," Diana joked keeping him humble.  

T’Challa was ready to part lips she wanted to fondle. She moved closer thinking he would back. He wouldn't. Diana stepped into his bubble if only to torture him further, straitening his tie, brushing lint that wasn't there from it. She smelled like heaven. Rapture incarnate. If indifference was the name of his game T’Challa was losing. Her touch trailed his chest finding its way to his belt. She pulled his pants a little higher for him, staying before the triggered, dressed down king.  

"The Queen Mother is expecting our visit. Everyone else will not," he said as a reminder. "Your trip across the Atlantic must have been a success."  

Diana remembered her afternoon only too well. "We will discuss it tonight. My bedroom door will be unlocked. The lace will be lavender."  

T’Challa didn't mind the mental picture.  

"That sounds promising. Your good mood is welcomed. Earlier, it didn’t seem the case. Remember. We cannot be everywhere at once. You cannot. Your peace of mind, Diana—"  

She would prefer if she could take him right then and there. "—I know. And I appreciate your considering it."  

In her playful departure he followed her strut even when she left his view completely. Plaster walls weren't as interesting but it was all he could eventually see. He preferred to dwell on an evening with the princess and what it would entail. A reprieve from peril was more than needed.  

* * *

She slipped her sexy into something peach, and sleeveless, letting it drop to cuffed jeans. No sighs. Only scented candles for light, a bed's end at her back, its quilt a bear lodge mesh of reds, golds and grays. Her tiara nestled between the fold of her lariat on a three-drawer chest both weapons called for her glance. For her touch. She could spot his slinking into the corner of her eye never hearing it.  

"You're unsure about how you will be perceived," T'Challa entered with. He just stood there in his dark button up and slacks he took off, and put back on, when they were settled.  

"No. It is their calling me *Hadari-Yao," Diana said on the approach. "What can one say to that?"  

"Think of it as high praise, meant to flatter, not unnerve," he said. "It has been your title for years."  

"It has," she said.  

When she closed in on him the hard of his limbs wrapped around the small of her back. Her head arched because she wanted to see him staring. She'd pull his gaze on the fold of her arms behind his neck, his brow against hers.  

"Tell me all will be well," she said.  

"All will be well," he promised.  

A draft brushed its way into their heart-to-heart sifting through the raised window and any other openings. T'Challa's kiss to follow was a serene statement to ruin Diana's worry. She opened the flicker of her eyes letting negative thoughts wash away. Positive returned. Positive worked. He smelled of his panther garb, a tad like the spice of cinnamon and oiled leather, manlier than her scent of picked acai berries.  

"You must forgive me," she said.  

"For?" he said.  

"My attitude, as of late," she admitted. "I’m not myself."  

"We all face uncertainty, Diana. There's nothing I need to forgive," he said yet she shied away from giving him her focus. It took a welcomed pause before she returned it.  

"Do you think they’re ready?" she asked intent to hear him answer. "Ready for another to share your throne."  

"—Wakandans endure. Adapting to change is but one facet of that strength. I'm not looking to force your hand even if you offer it," he confided. "Taking it into consideration is enough."  

Whether they should call it a night there, in the bedroom doorway, or before a living room's fireplace was all but forgotten. T'Challa pulled his softest and Diana would follow him to the ends of the earth.  

* * *

Not the sectional, neither of two love seats, but a marigold pine rug over mopped hardwood. And just outside, the pangs of Manhattan, yet the silence indoors they both desired more than anything. Her both living and working at her embassy held its merit. Stoking a flame to keep its crackle T'Challa took a seat next to an anxious Diana. For a minute or two nothing was said. He cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up. If he was the appraiser then she was the pride and joy of his private collection.  

"There she is," he grinned.  

"Are you certain? Sometimes I’m not so sure," she said shocking herself with total honesty.  

"No one said you always have to be."  

"—I didn't _just_ arrive in man's world yesterday."   

Crazy how sisters she knew like the back of her hand couldn't get an honest reaction out of her, while this man who drove her nuts did it with so little effort. She didn't want to ponder that realization for too long, so she did what came naturally. She avoided it. With steady fingers, she started to unbutton the dress shirt he lent her, which she still wore, intending to give it back to him so he didn't have to face the evening shirtless. His approachable abs were her problem. He was gorgeous, and she really didn’t want to think too hard. Before she reached the second button he stopped her with a hand on her wrist.  

"What are you doing?" he asked.  

"Giving you back your shirt," she muttered.  

He shook his head vigorously. "Keep it."  

She pointed at the lavender silk robe resting on a glass table's top.  

"I have my own," she said.  

"Yes, but in order for a clothes swap to take place, I’ll still have to see you in that set," he said. "Who wants to be, engendered, by it?"  

The corner of her mouth rose. "You do not want to be. But you are?"   

"You wish," he lied.  

"And if I do this?" she said in standing. Leaning down, she shed her socks by the fireplace, then straightened again and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal black push-up plunge and panties.  

"Just wondering—if my body was the last thing you witnessed, ever, would it be worth it?" she smiled. He watched her silently challenging anyone to blame him, his eyes drifting from her assurance to her physical as her top fell open. In the fire's luminescence she took on a golden glow, smiling again, wantonly, knowing the effect of her evening wear. It was paper thin. Almost transparent. The rise to his feet he prolonged.  

"Diana—" he began ambling to her.  

"T'Challa," she toyed turning her back to him, shuffling to beige plaster that served as a wall.  

"—You are this close to naked."  

"What is it to you?"  

"It’s the opposite of having clothes on," he made light, losing.  

"Clothing should be a celebration and a delight, not a shield, except from weather. And I would defend without clothing, but I find that nudity distracts from my message," she expressed if only to take none of it seriously.  

"That's Wonder Woman speaking," he smirked.  

"Were you addressing Diana Prince?" she asked.  

"I don't know. And here we are, all alone."  

"Without your putting it bluntly yet. Which will hold greater rule over you? Your fear or your curiosity?"  

"With you that always depends."  

"This is fact. Now. Cease your prattle. Step from them."   

T’Challa tugged at his fly to unzip doing away with clean briefs when he could. Palms flat on the wall Diana bent over enough for her underwear to ride up the cleft of a plump backside.   

"And gape at what you cannot have."  

"Hmph. We shall see."  

When close enough he gripped her waist and whispered sweet nothings. Diana lingered on what would happen, his warm breath tickling her lobe as she closed her eyes, snickering under hers. She would make him claim her. Relishing the ways in which he would was T'Challa's only concern.  

* * *

Exhaustive schematics provided the means for his vessel's cloak function. It shot across the aerospace like a lightning fast silhouette. Seated at the controls of a wrap around cockpit Black Panther did the steering as Wonder Woman fed him intel. He set his focus on her efforts. Highly skilled in electronic theory his picking apart its machinations was the joy.  

"—The phrase eyes on the road applies to guiding a multi-million-dollar aircraft also," she teasingly said.  

Glad his grin was hidden he admired each piece of her getup. A bit outlandish, their articles, but necessary.   

"Auto-pilot is useful that way," he said. "Do we have a location?"  

Diana's fingers tapped air as T'Challa watched the data summoned. Each recording showed a jade behemoth, its power, speed and rage unchecked.  

"Military patrols spotted Dr. Banner on the border of Ecuador. He was volunteering as a pro bono pediatrician to a local village. Rebels attempted to raid said village turning the good doctor into the incredible Hulk. He leveled it. And everything close to it for fifty meters. A few friendlies were injured in the mayhem. The rebels—weren’t so favored."  

She glanced to his following every frame of what looped.  

"You can never say no can you?" T’Challa sighed, eyes forward.  

"It’s a favor to Clark," Diana glanced like she meant to convince him. "We were available. Better we get to Bruce before S.H.I.E.L.D or Hera knows who else."  

"And yet, I no less feel this is Superman's way of gauging an outcome," he said, analytical. "Some ploy to entice us both."  

"Paranoia, your highness," she said focused again on parameters. "You find motive where none exists. A tad par for the course, isn't it?"  

T'Challa was used to her derision. Such was her way and most would take offense.   

"You’re certain you haven’t rejoined the others?" he asked with sharp cunning. "Apparently you were missed. I fail to see why."  

Diana tracked the ship's fuel reserves and overall output.   

"It’s an option," she grinned. "This? This is my agreeing to accompany you because you're hopeless without me."  

"Right," he scoffed. "So very hopeless."   

Flipping the nearest switch allowed four rear thrusters greater verve. Their dialogue kept as their ride sped toward its destination.  

* * *

Its shout was unlike anything. Primal. Not human. That's how many describe Bruce Banner when he’s no longer Bruce Banner. Ecuador's capital sat high in the Andean foothills at an altitude of two-thousand, eight-hundred and fifty meters. Cobbled streets between structures were the backdrop. The country's military tried their hand at halting it. Muzzle flashes were constant. Its face twisting with rage it threw its arms back and bellowed. Helicopters but a few of its tormentors it pushed from its stance jumping nearly thirty feet, pounding huge fists into the ground from a drop, crushing vehicles and rocking the sidewalks. Machine guns unleashed pounds into its ribcage blasting from another street. Sixteen soldiers supported by a Humvee with a mounted 50. caliber, projectiles peppered it like bees, aggravating it further.  

Its arm rose to ward them off but instead of being driven left it turned and charged. The Humvee's driver floored in reverse but to no avail. It raised its mitt bringing it down through the engine block bashing the vehicle's nose into the pavement. Enlarged digits among its front it heaved the vehicle up as the gunner clung for his life. It bashed it against the cracked street again, over and over, tossing the combination of steel, wiring and burst rubber like a smoking frisbee. Sailing over anything remains plunged toward pedestrians twenty blocks from whence it came. She snatched the flaming hunk carrying it from the blameless, able to hoist it with relative ease. The rope swaying from one end of her child bearing hips as curious as her determination. Dropping from a slow drift to release what couldn't singe her fingertips her opponent was some ways away.  

"You were right, T'Challa. The military is making things worse. I’ll need your assistance in calming him."  

**"I’ve issued the pilots of their choppers new direction. They're falling back. Containment tube dispatched."**  

"Copy that."  

Diana caught wind of Quito's natives. It was unsettling but the sensation of a selfless act took precedence. Their natural apprehension told her more than their mouths could. While she only wanted to help she didn't deny that she could see it. She'd seen it before. Fear. Of her, of the beast disturbing their day-to-day. She pulled herself above the street and shot forward. Her flight fast enough to lift dust and drifting trash she surpassed haste over abandoned traffic. Her arrival let her take in the sight of it trapped within a bigger vat. Sectioned off, each street, bullet casings littered the roads with smoldering ruin. Diana let her boots meet said road. The trapped beast roared and flexing rippled muscle opened the tube's clamps. Part of its composition shattered in key segments. She locked eyes with it.  

"Dr. Banner. I am here to help you."  

"RAAAHHHHWWWHHHRRR!"  

"T'Challa?" She looked to the airship above her.  

**"That will not hold him forever."**  

It stomped the ground so hard it separated upending the clamps, charging her, as she stood solid. Drawing its massive fist back it forced a dangerous straight into her head. Instead of knocking her skull from her shoulders the beast felt something staying its punch, all before glass in the vicinity burst. It looked to Diana's tight hold of its hand. It tried to smash its free hand against the warrioress that parried it. One gripped the other’s arms. Diana wasn't unaware of its piquing resilience. She jumped planting scuffed heels into its gut sending it away, stepping from a leap, airborne with a drawn fist.   

It stopped its sliding to catch her next thrust grabbing her by the throat and slamming her through the road. A sweaty vice around her neck as large green fingers tried to choke the life from her. Its menacing cry next to her ears would make them bleed if she weren't impervious to catastrophic. She swung a crisp right into its jaw knocking it skyward and sprung after her blow, ramming its chest with balled hands, driving it from anyone within range. It brought its elbow into her spine. Arms wrapped around its waist, teeth grit, she took more punishment before releasing the problem letting herself pause to watch it careen. She'd see its crash into grassed rock miles from their last position, spinning to view TChalla standby.  

"Can you see him?!"  

**"On your six!"**  

She couldn't buy what she witnessed next. Its jump hurried it tossed a large enough boulder on its hurl toward her. Her cuff clap crushed the stone to dust. What she wouldn't expect was it snapping its punch into her nose. It pulled her leg as they dove for the city. Distracted by the tremendous strike she shook it off. It didn't let her ankle go until it lobbed her through a rooftop. She ruptured multiple floors in her fall. Stark screams, her body tearing through metal and concrete, it all filled her ears. Caving in the structure's foundation wasn't her choice. 

* * *

T’Challa tapped several keys above the cockpit dash. He readied a retracted cannon to fire on it stabbing its skin with steely darts, each syringe loaded with a customized diprenorphine. It swatted the needle storm, snorting, grabbing the nearest weapon it could find. Digging its large tips into a parked car it drew it back to lob it at him in a hurry. His efficiency at maneuvering allowed his ship to avoid a ruined convertible. He watched Diana's quick catching of it sparing the dispersed. Enough was enough. It left street level without effort. T'Challa glimpsed its bound toward his position.   

He prepared to induce more of the beast's mental strain and would've if not for Diana's snatch. She carried the wriggling powerhouse, a vapor cone popping beneath the tips of her toes. Wrapping its torso in Hestia's lariat, up to and past its neck, it continued its enraged motion until it lightened. Almost leaving the troposphere frost formed on its grimace as its eyes grew heavier. It drifted into what could've been sleep as its internal organs thumped a little less. She put the brakes on her remarkable ascension and cradled something else. Its definition shrunk in size, the pale of its skin returned, and the torn to flaps jeans it wore were much baggier. She soon dropped with the average sized Banner.  

"Black Panther. I have him."  

**"I see you."**  

Her transportation, secondary as it was, arrived, its back end turning as exit doors unraveled. Her comrade walked toward the ramp's edge ready to sedate their catch to keep him asleep when she boarded the vessel. Secured within he resumed his role as pilot initiating a cruise control. His seat taken next to her among cargo they watched the ill-fated scientist stuffed into a suitable crate. The thankful grin she flashed didn't ring true.  

"Empowered by the fires of Hestia indeed," T'Challa said, all eyes on her lasso.  

Diana's taking it in hand felt too natural. "Infinitely long and can lengthen depending on the desire of its wielder. I've been told that its capacity for truth was written as innate to myself, with it merely a focus of that power."  

He noticed the residue on her armor as she brushed bits of it from her shoulder.   

"They looked to me as if they were—"  

"Transfixed," he finished for her. Her nod let him know he hit the nail on the head.  

"I assumed by now I’d be used to it," she said.  

"Banner is contained. We will take him to the others."  

He found no emotion in her stare and wouldn't until she cracked.   

"Superman _—does_ want you to join us," she said.  

"I know," he already surmised. "It will have to wait."  

"Perhaps. Though just as Wakanda needs her king, the world needs your genius," she said to sway his opinion. "The Black Panther is a worthy ally. His return to the JA would be welcomed with open arms."  

T'Challa wasn't blind. Her serious tone meant he may have touched the unseen. If anything, he knew what made her tick.   

"It's something to ponder. But then again, you and Clark are supposed to be the idealists," he said before standing. "The rest of us have to be practical."  

She enjoyed a light smile at the sentiment as he shuffled to the cockpit. Diana watched him all the while finding nothing else to dwell on. She then paid attention to Banner's rest, not celebrating nor reflecting.  

* * *

* _Hadari-_ _Yao_ = "Walker of Clouds"  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 


	7. Chapter 7

He pressed his index to a keypad, its sole button, that area of his embassy abandoned and sterile. T'Challa tried at not thinking over a decision. He instead followed the pad's purple gleam. He heard one beep before the click and figured a wall would separate to reveal a lift. Alloy with its own tint the chill inside it dispersed for warm rushing in. The ride down was quicker. Barely a bump when he stopped he waited for the lift's exit to reveal what was modest in size but technical in scope. A console panel to his right stretched a wall's length and bordered digital. To his left automatic doors led to whatever closely guarded secrets that area kept. Stationed in its center was its heart reaching to the ceiling to project the entire planet as a hologram he could walk through. 

"Azari."  

Azari, a royal aide, brought the familiarity of a bearded, aged friend of the family with him. Knowing his father for years he could get away with most things, like wearing his Kufi hat indoors. His clergy robes much older than the king reds, blacks and greens grazed their reflections on the floor. 

"Greetings, King T'Challa. Your timing is impeccable," he said as his deeper base bounced from the walls. T'Challa removed his cowl. 

"Take me to him," he said keeping it in hand. Automatic doors moved between slots that could hold them. The hall revealed narrow, multiroomed, whitish text they could read trickled down its length. 

"Before your return he went into hypovolemic shock. Our natural inclination was to inject him with the serum you developed to suppress his genetic disorder."  

"Did Dr. Banner resist?" 

"No, my king. He simply asked for help before collapsing." 

They found what they were looking for beyond heavy metal. Sitting in its darkness was the man in question. T'Challa was glad to see he appeared fed and clothed. A light on the ceiling kept its only brightness on him. His cell, a translucent cube, was thought to be impregnable. 

"Give us a moment, Azari," T'Challa said, not seeing Azari bow. He waited until the door closed him in. Looking to Banner's anxiety, his seat was a stool and nothing else. 

"You should've let me die," Banner sighed as the cube projected the hoarseness in his voice. T'Challa held his hands to the back of his regalia, his chin high. 

"You're a friend, Bruce. Not an encumbrance," he said with the poise Bruce knew him to have. 

"—I'm not with the JA?" 

"No. Though you are in New York. We can discuss why soon. A good night's sleep would do you well." 

Bruce stood adjusting prescription glasses tailored to his sight. He crossed arms over his less muscular torso, smirking. 

"I'm missing the catch." 

"There is no catch," T'Challa said. "I need your expertise. You're one of the world's greatest scientific minds as it pertains to nuclear physics." 

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. He nervously paced back and forth as the king stood still as a statue. A light hum was his cage keeping him inside of it. They listened to it for a while as T'Challa let him gather himself. 

"I don't know, T'Challa," he said taking a seat. He buried his face in his palms and wiped the groggy from his eyes. "There have been times, moments in the past few years when I've almost thought there might be a chance I could control it. Harness it for the good of all. Yet always, always the dream dies, the madness comes back. And each time, it seems worse than before." 

"That will change if given the chance." 

"For whose benefit?" 

"Yours. I offer this. Protection from the organizations hunting you. A full pardon. Reinstatement of your credentials and a new laboratory anywhere in the world you choose," T'Challa claimed.  

Tapping the right side of his gauntlet dropped the force field catching Bruce off guard. T'Challa approached throwing caution to the wind. He extended a hand. Bruce waited two seconds, then took it, not squeezing too hard. 

"—Then what can I do to help, your highness?" he said warmly. His thin-lipped grin was for the king's and like T'Challa's, a legit gesture to seal the deal. 

* * *

Unassuming, surrounded by the nations of Narobia, Uganda, Kenya, Somalia, and Ethiopia, central to Wakanda's myth and ritual was a small mountain of ore. On the trip to his homeland Diana could see it because it was starboard. Next to T'Challa helming his sentry aircraft she had passed over it too many times. It was still meteoric in origin. It was still intriguing. Diana knew what secrets were contained within its silvered slopes, the atmosphere circling it more akin to a white veil.  

How much blood was shed to protect its limitless worth? He assumed she'd speak again as she had yet to since they departed the United States. His frightening mask sat near the copilot's seat. Dressed for the occasion herself, what she won the right to wear donned in all of its glory, it was the last thing on her mind. Slowing the ship that carried them across the Atlantic, dread arrived. Her mind raced.  

Landing stilts reaching when the three of them met flat and rigid there was no bounce nor hard jerk. T'Challa stood from his seat taking two things: one part of his heirloom and her hand. He instantly thought of their days as wily teenagers. Weak in the knees Diana hated feeling like it was the first time she'd meet the family. It wasn't, and she despised another twist of her stomach. Any pressure amplified as soon as he said, "Are you ready?" 

"I am." 

Until relatively recently, the Wakandans lived as their ancestors did, primarily a hunter-gatherer society with some cultivation of crops. There were no golden plains in sight. A cargo hold's elongated ramp lowered. Its highest end tapped perfect metal, everything else about the vessel wouldn't move either, save for paneling flashes and clicks. His Adored Ones were still as armed idols coated in scarlet and black. Bejeweled accessories, the hardest segments a shield for skin of the finest mocha, eight present and not one blinked unless he willed it. Diana wrestled with both envy and respect. She could see her reflection along a charcoal walkway leading to the palace grounds, beyond twin panther molds. Massive, they towered her recollection of how they were once smaller. Most prominent was another standing proud between T'Challa's personal guard. 

"My son. Princess Diana. Welcome home," she greeted.  

The only one to address Diana so formally, she called her headdress a Gele and it wrapped her gray braids, decorated with a violet likeness in honor of Bast, as was her gown. Bowing Diana replaced jitters with what was usual for her. She accredited feeling better to Ramonda's being so elegant and strong. So much like her mother. T'Challa stepped aside to let it happen. When Ramonda was close enough she embraced their visitor. 

"Poor child. They run you ragged," she smiled, her eyes shut. 

Diana closed hers and held the gorgeous Queen Mother, glad again.  

"Never beyond what I can handle, *uwar," she beamed. "It's so good to see you." 

Ramonda's palms against Diana's cheeks so she could look her over she hoped being pleased would suffice.  

"And this one. He is behaving himself?" She then glanced for T'Challa. "It would appear righting a grave offense met a satisfactory conclusion. Has it?" 

T'Challa wouldn't back from the women in his life poking with stares. 

"In a sense," he said. Ramonda didn't buy it. The next hug was for her son. His hands then in hers she searched his looking so beat. 

"You return with your honor intact," she said, thankful. "It is as I hoped." 

Ramonda turned in her leading him and Diana kept their pace. It sat on a cliff with the rapids below enclosed by forested valleys. T'Challa's dwelling was described as a mile-and-a-half enclosure with walled pathways, a courtyard, gardens, decorated huts, and palisades. Diana took in the sight of its rock hewn architecture more monolithic than the Greco-Roman motif that wasn't a Wakandan custom. The malleable sheen to it all was an extraterrestrial plus. Though T'Challa and Ramonda traded anecdotes Diana wouldn't butt in. Surrounded by pure, by the untainted, she knew how many would murder and pillage to acquire anything she laid eyes on. 

* * *

. . . 

A room he and few others were allowed to step foot in was housed on one of its varied floors. The unofficial bunker was an extension. Resilient, buzzed blonde, holographic feeds looked down on a career military man. He believed his authority over an organization to be the highest. They let him know constantly it wasn't. The Advanced Research Group Uniting Super Humans sounded better as the acronym A.R.G.U.S and those in the know referred to it as such. It was persistent silence until edited video popped from his wrist watch. 

"—And finally, their recent visit to Ecuador. Tracking him is next to impossible. Blame his satellites and God knows what else. We have Wonder Woman's whereabouts. Her position vanished altogether, here, at fifteen-hundred hours. Don't need to tell you why."  

Being so steadfast wasn't the emotion shared by the majority. 

" **General Trevor. You no longer keep tabs on the Amazon ambassador. There's a reason for this?** " 

"Yeah. It's unnecessary. And so far Black Panther's intentions, cloak and dagger as they may be, aren't volatile. If it happens—" 

" ** _When_ ** **it happens. Do you realize what the ramifications of their eloping implies? For all of us? Two thirty megaton warheads operating with unlimited municipal power!** " 

"I've never swatted a hornet's nest. We're on the clock. As always you'll be privy to any and all. Until he does something outside of his ordinary danger close isn't an option."  

" **We realize your tactical apprehension and would prefer if your sentiments for Wonder Woman didn't interfere with your sworn duty to your country. S.H.I.E.L.D's involvement isn't necessary** — **until it should be.** " 

"My sentiments are none of your damn business. That ship has sailed." 

"— **Time will tell, General.** " 

* * *

She thought her quick for a non-enhanced. She focused less on coming jabs and swift roundhouses. As her opponent tossed a foot Diana swept her from the other with Shuri's spin stopping on her side. She winced pretty, hazel eyes, all about the discomfort. 

"And you said sparring with you would be the _best of fun_ ," she chuckled through quick breaths. 

"Complain less. Focus more." Diana pulled her up. "I've defeated those ten times stronger than I am. There is no reason you can't." 

Diana forgot how much she missed her little sister. She finished reminiscing as she caught a rod. She couldn't tell if it was rubber, metal, or a combination of both. Shuri twirled hers over her head then held an end out. 

"Changing the tune?" 

"Changing the tune," Shuri said brashly. Her attacks hit Diana's blocks, backing her as she was then backed. Pushed to a wall she knew Diana toyed with her. It was written all over the confidence. She shoved her off, spinning. Diana ducked bringing her staff underneath. Thrown into a flip Shuri dropped from a twirl more limber than a master gymnast.  

Diana moved faster. Shuri blocked high as she swept low. When she opened her eyes she was on her back again. Close to her face was Diana's rod. She spun it away to offer a hand. Shuri's curls were as short as her brother's. A tad silkier. Softer features than T'Challa's, but toned, she trained as obsessively yet it was her flawless skin. How two nearby Dora Milaje were as striking in the chamber's glow. Ripples chased Diana's steps projecting her vitals. 

"Uhhh, earth to Diana," Shuri quickly waved. Diana snapped out of it, content. 

"Forgive me." She accepted the gourd of water handed to her. Spandex shorts and sports bras activated to cool their flesh while evaporating sweat. Shuri pulled her foot to her bottom ignoring the perk. 

"He will watch you for the rest of your life," she blurted out.  

Diana smirked, at a wall's morphing from hard to soft as she leaned against it. She had a mind to ask what couldn't the room do. Instead she looked to the king's Dora and their leers. She knew they wouldn't bat an eye to kill her if it meant protecting him and the princess regent. 

"T'Challa watches everyone," she said. Shuri noticed her unease. Diana offered an experienced grin. "You're a talented warrior." 

"Why thank you. It's not every day I hear such praise from the divine." 

"I am many things, little sister. A _goddess_ is not one of them."  

Shuri eyeballed the bracers Diana never took off. She watched her pull a band from her hair to shake out longer waves of black. 

"Maybe. But you are novel. You see hate instead of caution." 

"They have every right to hate," Diana differed. "Novel or not I shouldn't be here, Shuri. Your brother has made a mistake." 

"You don't believe that," Shuri convinced. "T'Challa doesn't make mistakes. He sees what I see." 

"Oh," Diana engaged. "And what is that?" 

"A wonder woman." Shuri was better at making her laugh. 

"No one knows that title here," Diana kept smiling. 

"Not yet. They will." Shuri tilted her grin. "Because they need to. I used to take for granted how much we truly have. Much more than we need. But you can be the bridge." 

Diana turned a curious glance. Wise for her age Shuri's stare was proof she bought into the claim. 

"Come here." She reached out to embrace the girl if only for Shuri's cheering her up. "We can spar anytime you like." 

"Promise?" Shuri beamed. 

"I promise."

Letting each other go off to the side weren't windows. Through whatever they were one could view bushy terrain endlessly stretching from where they sat. A realm never colonized. 

"Good. I can hold defeating Diana of Themyscira over his head someday," Shuri quipped. 

"Challenge accepted." Diana had no choice but to share in the good mood.  

"Working hard?" In T'Challa walked with no urgency. Shuri approached her brother only to punch him in the shoulder. 

"You're late, fool! And you missed my nearly winning," she said winking at the amused Diana. "Don't break him for being oblivious, Diana. He can't help it." 

Her elders watched as two of T'Challa's Dora followed after Shuri and her boasting. T'Challa's eyes then roamed their visitor. Borrowed tribal wear revealing it would be wise if he kept up. He'd have to. Sudden punches found their mark too quickly. Diana's barrage meeting his handpad's cushion a bare foot shot at his face and it stopped short of his smelling it. 

"Shuri was lying about your form," he said. 

"Thank Gaia when you will," she said. "She seems to favor your lineage." 

"You threaten my lineage?" 

"I threaten your skill in battle," she said a tad cockier. "This, is kicking properly." 

Her foot fell, slow, more in an effort to get the point across. What he exercised in exposed an agreeable torso. She was a sucker for pecs. Looking at his too long would get her in trouble. But there were still other eyes on the session. Diana decided, no, ignore it, focus on her time with him. She wiped what little there was of moisture from what she beat into shape, somehow never losing its sensual. If he looked too long it would get him in trouble. 

"Hands up," she bossed.  

T'Challa didn't need the pads but Diana needed a moment.  

"Barbara's off the grid. There is no way to reverse her affliction, is there? Perhaps she's in league with—someone we didn't expect," she huffed through her boxing. 

"And you say I'm paranoid. Save your wind, Diana. I do not fear Barbara Minerva." 

She barely listened going to town on what he held. "She's more dangerous than you think." 

"It would be fitting to say your slip is showing. That would imply you were feminine." 

He hoped he would see her smile and did.  

"Continue to wag your tongue, your highness. Your failing to amuse is funny in and of itself." She hit the handpads a little harder. Bucking from each strike wasn't his choosing to. T'Challa paid no mind to any pain. Clenched fingers bashed his left hand one more time. 

"King T'Challa!"  

Another brought a small bunch of the uniformed with him. Ivory cloth incorporated a vibranium microweave mesh that robbed incoming objects of their momentum. Bullets couldn't ricochet off his fully masked *Hatut Zeraze but simply fell to the ground if they came into contact. The high-tech weaponry each kept close to their broad chests were primed and not aimed.  

"The Jabari amass near Warrior Falls!" 

There was a change in character. Even if everyone in the vicinity watched Diana like the most competent predators she didn't care. When he spoke again, she'd listen, as he would do so in the timbre of a ruler. 

"Does M'Baku lead them?" T'Challa asked as his secret police stood from their kneeling. 

"No, my king. It is as if they are not themselves. Rabid, dead in the eyes, incognizant." 

"Hmm. He has wasted no time," T'Challa mentioned inspiring his followers. He would until Diana clutched his shoulder. 

"T'Challa."  

She wanted to pick his brain which was a challenge and always would be. He passed through imposing men and their making way. When they could see her determination, her being an equal mirroring his strut, it struck a chord. His people were mixed in their opinions of the princess and how learned she was at affecting their king. Bringing sound to those grievances, or compliments, wasn’t their place. 

* * *

 *uwar = "mother" 

*Hatut Zeraze = "Dogs of War" 

 


	8. Chapter 8

"You’re certain it will work?" She gripped her cuff like it would slip from her wrist. 

"You don’t trust me?"

Diana paid no mind to a slab holding her lariat and tiara, reaching for the latter. 

"I trust you to over complicate a simple matter," she said setting it over her scalp. "If I’m to be the voice of reason, you must let me." 

She stopped her strut just before his looking her up and down. T'Challa ignored the unearthly hum of any tech boxing them in. 

"The Jabari are beyond reason, Diana," he said and she knew it. Diana stepped from him only to collect her lasso. He grabbed a glowing frame to trace one area of his region, part ancient, part reminder. "The Hatut Zeraze will keep watch from the canyon's edge. You should be more than capable of holding your own while I pinpoint a location." 

"The droll vote of confidence is appreciated." She held back her smile. 

"Take this." 

T’Challa tossed her something smaller than a pea. Diana chose slipping it in her ear over more questions. She barely felt its clinging to her skin. When they left it was as a pair. Waiting beyond doors opening and closing themselves were bowing Dora Milaje. Trailing them, wherever they went, were armed Hatut Zeraze. The halls wide and the decor varicolored the only thing on her mind was just that: could they ever accept her? T'Challa could see it. Her silent reflection was all but screaming at him. She had no worries. Only disbelief. Before he could ask they stopped outdoors. 

What could've been a helipad held nothing of the sort in the distance. His aircraft powered on it was one retracted ladder's climb to the cockpit. Diana carried herself into the air keeping a gaze on his as he stood in place. His men at his back each of them watched her riding a warmed wind, the African sun kissing the newly polished of her chestplate and diadem, and her looking down on their ruler without his taking offense. 

"We will discuss it soon," was all he'd say and it struck her as too curious. There was no tricking him. 

"It would be best," was all she had for it. She slowly flew higher as if to drive it home. 

* * *

Wonder Woman knew their white gorilla furs to be customary. Hooded, bright eyed, their spears jagged and curved at the highest point were ice cold no matter how humid it was. The cascading waters of Warrior Falls still inspired all to see it yet it played second fiddle to their numbers. Frothing at the mouths not their doing she stood firm in a pool's shallow. She wouldn't wade through its coming up to her ankles. 

"You are not yourselves," she began. "My name is Diana. I once helped your tribe. Do you not remember me?" 

" _He sends his Hadari Yao to meet us. Where is the orphan-king, woman?_ " 

" **Keep them talking, Diana.** "

She didn't reach for her weapons. The lasso stayed put, as did accessories that were never pieces of jewelry to flaunt. She didn't tense at their beating the water with their spear bottoms and crazed animation. What little of their brown skin she could see was flexed and hard as a girder. 

"Felix Faust! Release these men! You do not lay claim to their freedom!" she yelled at the sky. 

" _Give us the orphan-king, outsider! Now! He will answer for the murder of M'Baku!"_  

When they inched forward she didn't budge. Her composure was unnerving for the camouflaged on each of the canyon's ridges, their weapons laser sights dotting the Jabari like swarming bees delaying their sting. What impressed them more was an Amazon's steadfast. It was then she reached for her coiled lariat. 

" _—Seize her! I command it!_ " 

" **That's it! I have him!** "

Their steps splashed with their charging. 

"Tell the Hatut Zeraze not to fire!" Diana shouted as she gripped an approaching collar. Not giving him the chance she bludgeoned his comrades using the larger man to repel an onslaught, then flinging him across the pool. 

" **Everyone.** **Stand down. Do not interfere.** "

Hearing him say it brought her ease. She upended another turning one fist to shatter a ribcage with it, spinning her heel to kick the head from a third before his turning to ash. One lasso toss clutched a wrist and pulling too hard dislocated his shoulder before tearing from his arm's socket. She gained her proof for an inkling. 

"Faust commands the dead?!" 

" **Yes. The Jabari tribe have been deceased for years. I’m headed to their Crystal Forest.** "

One spear tip slid by her weaving from it only to pop from its wielder, now hers to spin, swiping two more closing fast. She dove higher than their rush. Turning over to accent her pirouette upside down then right side up she fell five yards from her leap. The sharp whistle of her weapon's dangerous side stopped from a twirl at her back, her left to those still standing. 

"And they cannot be helped?"  

" **They cannot.** "

She stabbed the ground with what she wouldn't need. The Jabari crept something like fearful of how much of her vigor they'd yet to contest. 

"Then call the Hatut Zeraze off entirely." She half expected him to say no. 

" **Already done. I will await your arrival twenty yards from the forest** **treeline.** "

The blade sheathed by her thigh able to cleave through the tiniest atom she clenched its hilt. Triggered, desperate, why they soon blitzed wasn't anyone's to know. Contrary to popular belief her father wasn't Zeus. She always thought the notion laughable. Moving quicker than he could ever hurl his fiercest bolts was no old wives' tale. Stopping her attack run on one knee, her sword arm held straight, the Jabari now facing where she left stood paralyzed. Diana rose her turn to see their spears breaking apart, their bodies cracked enough to toss up rancid dust. Their splitting in two gradual she placed her gladius back where it rested. Nothing at her front but tranquil water wetting powder stacks her mind returned to the next step. As time was of the essence she wouldn't keep the king waiting. 

* * *

It only snowed in that part of the country. She dropped from the sky onto flat heels and the tips of her boots. Black Panther watched a forest's edge meeting the ice, trees shooting up from it not composed of any bark known to man. They could speak over the wind's howl, they could shrug off below freezing weather, and they didn't need to stress what was to come. Even so he was too quiet for her tastes. 

"Have you discovered our way in?" she asked with her eyes forward. 

"Give me a moment," he finally cracked. She turned a glance to see his making use of his senses. Digital mapping of the vicinity and where a palace may have been despite there being nothing but crystal trees ahead of them. "Faust is shrouding the palace with his magic. If we head north the entrance would be just shy of a mile." 

"I assume you've ruled out flying," she guessed. 

"If we move in using means like it, then yes, his illusions will distort our ability to track him." T'Challa crouched to scoop some of the earth with two fingers rubbing both together. "A salt compound." 

"Mixed with what?" 

"Something to poison the soil," he answered. There was not so subtle irritation in his tone. 

"He used your time away." She waited for him to stand. "You’re now far from your throne once more. Have Shuri and the Queen Mother been briefed?" 

She kept his pace even if he wouldn't glance to her. "Give me some credit," he said. "You speak as if I were crowned yesterday." 

Diana smirked keeping an eye out. "A tad touchy, aren't we? I meant no offense." 

"Of course you didn't." T'Challa stopped as they reached an impasse. Two ways. The wall before them shimmered, no waterfall but the likeness was uncanny. It stretched left and right as far as they could see. "He is beyond this barrier." 

"Then we breach it."

She was ready to act, and would've had he not raised a hand. 

"Brute force will not work either." 

Diana set hands on her inviting hips. She let him play strategist. 

"What do you plan to do?" It was too obvious but she would rather hear him speak. 

T'Challa, Kimoyo Card in hand, scanned the wall's being too hot to touch. He soon tucked his tool away to face her. 

"You know what he is. He dies for violating these lands. There is nothing to discuss."  

Diana had no argument as where they stood, his word was law. 

"So be it," she said. T'Challa took his determination in the opposite direction as they planned to split up. He knew his enemy couldn't resist the one serving as bait. He also decided against telling her. 

* * *

Walking for what seemed like hours she found her way in. A gateway and stepping through it sealed her among a disconcerting space of chilly white. 

"I've found something," she spoke as she and her partner kept radio contact. "An offshoot realm. Like a negative space." 

" **Describe it.** "

"Vast, emptied, and solid." 

" **Similar to where I am. We can still communicate. Are you able to resist his manipulation?** "

"I was about to ask if _you_ were."

She kept her wits about her. Her steps drew ripples across what looked like dried ice. Nowhere was everywhere. In the distance was the impossible. She scrutinized every muscle, his garb's dark, and his stance of perfect posture. Whatever the source she was staring at her beloved. 

"Diana of Themyscira," he said in T'Challa's timbre. "You play a dangerous game." 

"It's over, Faust. Your parlor tricks cannot save you. Tell me what you want with Wakanda's king while you still can." 

T'Challa pulled his mask from a handsome face. She ignored the lie she knew it to be. 

"You think he keeps you around because he cares for you? You are a powerful asset. Nothing more. Even now his plan was to use you as bait in some misguided attempt at drawing me out. It's the truth, Princess. I've seen how he looks at you." 

" **Diana! I'm under attack!** "

"T'Challa? I can barely hear you. Under attack by what?" 

" **By you!** "

"You aren't viewed as someone worthy enough to share his throne. What would you know of ruling a nation?" he pressed. " ** _You are nothing without me_**." 

Her foe took on his true form; well over seven feet and clad in the blackest greaves, wrist bracers, and a muscled cuirass outlined in gold. His Corinthian helmet hiding a sadistic smile and his eyes like red coals ever burning it was, indeed, him. 

"Where is Faust, war god?" A wide eyed Diana tensed for the worst. "My patience wore thin an hour ago!" 

" ** _Yes_** , **_girl_**. **_That is the bloodlust I am so very fond of_**." He took one step closer. " ** _The decision is yours_**. **_I can send you directly to_ ** **_Faust_** — ** _or_ ** **_you can save your wayward lover who is sure to perish by your hand_**." 

She balled the fist she held at her side. "You're bluffing." 

" ** _Am I_**?" he replied with a tone too deep and too raspy to shun. One wave of his gauntlet opened a window. Through its ovaled flicker Diana could see him. " ** _Faust is a madman_** **_but a loyal pet_**. **_His creation has_** ** _all of_** ** _your strengths_**. **_She is free of your pathetic compassion_**. **_Willing to kill indiscriminately_**. **_The perfect warrior_**. **_I wonder how long he will last against you_** , **_p_** ** _rincess_**." 

"Send me to him you vile snake!" Diana dashed ready to swing all of the power she could muster. Her punch striking nothing she touched down, sliding into a spin, only able to slow when she calmed herself. He stood some ways away as if he never moved. 

" ** _No_**. **_I think we should watch you break every bone in his body first_**." 

Teeth grit and fuming she assumed looking from the wicked god would help. Powerless to do what she wanted—she could only wait for her chance. 

* * *

T’Challa stopped a punch rattling his bones as it pressed his wrist. He swung a fist at the arm blocking it. She then hovered from the coming claw swipes swift as they were, twirling her lasso before snagging his next. He tossed one wave of energy daggers at her pull. Repelling each she took off driving him into something high up and hard. The fore of her arm against his neck he stayed where she wanted him to. 

"What are you playing at, T'Challa? Fight me!" she yelled with none of Diana's couth. Tapping her right temple with flat and metallic it burned at her hair and skin. 

"Ahhhn!" she screamed not witnessing his drop. On his feet again he shot a glance up to her faster plunge. One dive into a roll dodged the fist she opened the ground with. 

"—An imitation at best. The real Diana would have ended it by now," he said to aggravate. She pulled her hand from tougher than diamond glass to lick her lips. "Take me to Faust, creature. I will not ask a second time." 

"You cannot hurt me, T'Challa. I'm the love of your life." She ambled that arrogance with her. "That's it. I can see it. Behind your mask. Those fierce russet eyes lusting after the truth. Come then. Claim what you desire most." 

She was too fast. He could spot her next move if he was lucky. Luck had nothing to do with his ducking her spinning foot. He moved from the sudden of an arced punch aimed for his abdomen. Her back kick to follow met his chest shoving him off-kilter. Hitting a wall hard enough to fold much of it his shatter resistant attire wouldn't give. She missed his skull as he leaned it from a blow she tossed, its worth writing cracks into the barrier. She gripped his neck. Her fingers like a vice of impossible pressure pulling at them did him no favors. 

"Hmph. You think you can best me? Princess of the Amazons?! Who will save you now, orphan-king?" 

" _Who_ — _says I_ — _will need_ — _saving?_ "  

Taken by the hair he slammed her brow against the partition they all but leveled. T’Challa gained a chance to create some distance. Running to snatch her from a swoop she felt herself being thrown. She was, head first into a surface. She crawled into a quick dive to avoid a dropping knee. He spread his digits activating a boon. She had forgotten the device still attached to her head. Her opened eyes shut as they eventually stung. A burning tasked her visual nerves she rubbed at her face unaware of a fist shoved into her stomach, the second smacked across her jaw. She adapted, as any Amazon would, fake or not, parrying his efforts. He held nothing back. Her response was to push him into zips across the hub in every direction, hysterical, which for him was a leg up. 

* * *

"— ** _Hmm_**. **_Resilient_** , **_isn't he_**?" 

She found her opening. Meeting him in an instant she punched his gauntlet like it called her out of her name. Exchanging airborne attacks Diana took hold of his strike between her armpit. Turning over her boot ends met his stomach sending him away. He stopped his pace to rush her down. Grappling, he shoved her through cracking barriers into an arena of golden sand digging through it as one struggled to overpower the other. He clutched her throat and squeezed his hardest. 

" ** _Typical_** , **_Diana_**. **_Eager to resist an absolute_**. **_You are your mother_** ' ** _s seed_**. **_How is the queen_**? **_Does she miss me_**?" 

"You should be so lucky." 

Pulling at his forearms first Diana's legs wrapped his head. She brought it and his helmet into what they tussled on denting stone in the spring to her feet. Her eyes followed the standing war god. Lasso in hand it gleamed at her intent and at his being an Olympian. Disoriented, he shook his skull, not able to do away with a pain unlike any other. The cause was an outline that towered the Princess; gigantic, its fur a stark ivory with yellow eyes brighter than two dwarf stars seeing its larger than life fangs could rattle the mightiest. 

" ** _What nonsense is this_**?! **_I am a god_**!" 

"A god that has outstayed his welcome. Bast protects the king and his people. She now plays her hand!" And as if to cosign the claim Bast's roar shook the heavens they couldn't see. Enraged, her opponent made the mistake of hurrying. When close enough Diana’s elbow rammed his nose forcing his face into dust. Not letting him get up she slammed her knuckles against his chin. His nasty tumble along the ground piqued as a crash into one end of the arena's stairs. The sky split like a mirror struck. She looked to its clearest point spotting what she hoped to. Reality. Wakanda’s splendor seeping in, bit by bit. 

* * *

“ **We see you now, my king. Where is the palace of the White Gorilla Cult?** ” 

"Nonexistent, N'Gassi! Crystal Forest is all that remains of the Jabari lands!" T’Challa barked defending himself, mindful of his footing. Diana shoved her hand through a trunk to his left. He'd shift from the massive tree's nearly crushing him. "And Diana?" 

“ **We are not registering her position. Perhaps she is trapped within Faust's illusion.** ” 

"—No. This has all been the work of another. Maintain your post before the tree line. Destroy anything leaving this forest that is not myself or the princess." There was his slight bending at the knees for combative readiness. Diana's approaching steps his impending doom she certainly carried herself as if to prompt it. "You've tried and failed, Faust. Show yourself." 

Using Diana’s strength to fly her charge missed his sidestep. He ducked the back of a fist shooting his into her ribs. Wincing as she swung the end of her hand to chop she'd feel his catch of it, then the burn of heated metal cleaving through her wrist. T’Challa held one side of a vibranium dagger, aback from a severed hand's gushing fluid. Her shriek of pain shook snow from branches though her opponent wouldn't flinch. 

"Impudent fool!" She was berserk in her next sprint. Anxious to rip his head from his shoulders he stopped her with an angled slice at the kneecap. Forced against the ground her chin scraped into it. 

"AHHNNHNN!" Faust bellowed as the lower half of his leg remained a few yards from him. Between a tree and a harsh place the veil lifted and underneath Diana's stunning was a pasty, gnarled old man. His loose fitting robes of lavender torn at the areas T'Challa cut through it was the sorcerer's beady eyes he detested most. Hate and fear Faust's to wrestle with both ramped up as the king drew closer. T'Challa disregarded the slicker areas of green blood staining the ground, the putrid smell accompanying the visual, he moved until he was within arm's reach. 

"Get on with it! Kill me!" Faust spat still clutching the limb missing a hand. "Do it!" 

"—N'Gassi. Faust is down. I want Diana's location. Now." 

“ **At once, my king. She is, let me see** — **ah. Her signature is approximately five miles west of you.** ” 

T'Challa snatched Faust to his feet by the hood no longer dressing his bald head. Stabbing his shoulder with the implement he'd yet to drop there was a moment to savor his wail when it pierced his flesh. Pinned to a slick trunk any chance to escape was stolen from him. 

"You will stay here. This dagger is not only uncomfortable. It siphons your power. My men will kill you if you so much as limp an inch from this tree. I would not advise the notion," T'Challa was stern when saying. "Mourn your lord and master, Faust. If Diana has not already finished him I certainly will." 

Rough as he released him he'd spot Faust's decaying fangs for teeth, his grin like the cards dealt to him were a plus. He took off faster than an Olympic sprinter. 

"His will cannot be undone, orphan-king! She is to be his! Woe be to your kingdom! Woe be to the world and its flaccid sheep!" Faust rambled nearly losing sight of T’Challa’s chopping up the distance. He could sniff it out, Diana's sweet, the slight musk of a woman molded from god-breathed clay. Whether she could sweat or not was irrelevant as the further he advanced, the stronger her scent. 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 


	9. Chapter 9

The arena he willed into shape a memory she dashed to his conjuring portals with a fingertip. Darting through each Diana chased herself. She stopped, staying afloat, searching for the tricky and unseen. Closing her eyes she spun a brisk punch into the bridge of a nose. Heavy, sudden, the impact rang across the length of a forest she was a little past sick of. In the confusion her lasso wrapped his knees. She tensed her arms turning both to swing his head into trees cracked in half at the force. She brought him up then down as hard as she could crushing more than his ego. Her enemy not one for losing, nor used to physical agony, blinked from sight setting himself far away. Diana pulled catching the looped end of her weapon and keeping it in hand. 

" ** _This_** — ** _this is not happening_**!" he griped when she could hear him again. He shot a glance to his weakening arms and their slow fading. Attention locked she eyed his shining in and out of view. 

"Your time has run out," she said. "Return to Hades, war god." 

He dropped a hob-nailed boot burning what he stepped on. 

" ** _Wretched Amazon_**! **_Why does a_** ** _Wakandan_** ** _patron bless an outsider_**?! **_It is not possible_**!" 

Wonder Woman wouldn't answer. More curious to her was the god's fiery glare coupled with a smirk of mettle. The quiet to follow wasn't just unpleasant. 

"— ** _Soon_** , **_p_** ** _rincess_**." 

"Ares!" 

Pupils of deep red fixed on her giving chase. Before she could take hold of his posturing Diana stepped through him. He left her amid snow and not much else. Glancing in every direction couldn't help her cause as he was no more. The next thing heard were near silent feet on the approach and a warrior's never looking back. The Black Panther almost ran her over but stopped just short of her preparing for more strife. 

"Diana," he said not out of breath. She let her guard down wanting to hug him but chose against it. Imagine her surprise when he pulled her close. All for his displaying affection in the moment as he normally wouldn't, she melted. He kept the mask on, its sleek cool against her neck. 

"What are you doing here?" she beamed just as well. "We were supposed to be looking for Faust." 

"There's no need," he said giving her some room. "The Hatut Zeraze have him." 

She pulled his cowl away to read his air. His nod in the direction he came was the giveaway she didn't have to ask for. 

"You spared him?" 

"Yes. It was a difficult decision. As his crime was against the people they will determine his fate." 

She watched him like he spoke in tongues not ready to face those who would judge the occurrence. How she would be reintroduced to them was its own riddle. 

“ **King T'Challa** —” 

"Go ahead, N'Gassi." 

“— **Forgive my ineptitude. Faust is dead.** ” 

T'Challa glanced to Diana's waiting on the go ahead. 

"Collect his remains. I’ve found Princess Diana. Await our return and inform the Queen Mother." 

“ **As you will it, my king.** ” 

"I know what you’re thinking," he said facing her. Arms hanging at her sides she wouldn't frown yet she wouldn't smile. 

"We’re among your country. Your customs. If this were Themysicira Faust would surely be put to death for such heinous acts," she said. "However—I refuse to believe he simply bled out from whatever wounds you inflicted." 

"When did Ares vanish?" he suddenly asked. 

"No more than a second or two before you ran up," she replied. As his eyes wouldn't get to the point she'd have to wait on his mouth. She focused on his lips as she was one to do. 

"It coincides with my theory. Ares utilizing Faust's essence. His life force. He served as an avatar temporary as that was. The relationship is slightly mutualistic. His hosts receive increments in their abilities." 

"—He _is_ trapped among the Erebus Pits. His uncle claimed as much. Perhaps he needs the power of a living vessel to return to our existence," she thought. "I would not be surprised if Hades aids the endeavor if only to spite the Amazons. He blames the goddesses for coddling us. And he abhors Zeus for faithfully protecting our island." 

"Zeus, protecting? I imagine there's more to that," he scoffed looking to the forest floor. "Nishik, Felix Faust, both used and then killed in a war god's bid to walk among us."

She ambled into his bubble. The winds weren't as boisterous. Any precipitation left was barely a drizzle. If nature's settling down so they could talk was its intent neither would know of it.  

"And Bast shows up to defend an outsider," he smirked. 

"An _outsider_ worthy of her chosen," she toyed. He ran fingers through the wet hair falling by her eyelids. 

"You assume I am her chosen," he said. Her fist shoving his cheek he laughed when she switched from him. She turned around as he didn't follow. 

"Is there more?" she said.

"We will have to leave the country again," he realized and it pained in that he had only just returned. 

"I’m not asking you to join me, T'Challa. You have a duty to the realm. To a people who need their king's influence," she said firmly. 

"You sound just like her," he said instantly thinking of Ramonda. Diana shook her head with her smirk.  

"Come here," T’Challa added. There was hesitation, initially. Doing as he asked he cupped her face hoping she'd give her undivided. "Listen, Diana. I want you by my side." 

"I am by your side," she said modestly. One of his hands left her face so she could lace her fingers through it. Her touch against his chest and his holding it there was a work of intrigue. 

"If ever there was a time to make it official," he said after what seemed like an eternity. Quietly amused by the backdrop she searched his gaze and its unwilling to bend. 

"And you said to yourself, hmm, I should probably ask her in the middle of a blizzard whilst covered in the blood of a deranged necromancer," she said adept at shooting the breeze. "How romantic." 

"Why does your disagreeing always have to come in the guise of an elaborate insult?" he said raising a brow. She slipped her arms around his neck leaving him no choice but to look her in the eyes. Such was the desire of most. She reveled in it. 

"I have yet to disagree, agree, or anything else." 

Setting himself on one knee was a humbling experience. She gasped, keeping one palm over her mouth and the other in his. 

"We shall try ordinary then. Will you, Diana of Themyscira?" he asked, the intimidating of his pitch set aside. It was rare to hear him speak so tenderly. Crystalline trees said nothing close as they were to his asking. The wind picked up tossing her hair from her blush and lariat from what held it. Alone with him, she'd answer, not concerned with who may or may not have been keeping watch of that instant. 

"—I will, sweet prince," she managed. T'Challa didn't have a ring to give her. Their customs weren't everyone else's. It was cold, both were famished and drained, yet Diana held his head to the golden belt protecting her stomach. Fingers lost in his curls they stayed in place as long as they wanted. She smiled so much her cheeks ached as he looked up to see it. He would until she leaned forward to grant him a lasting kiss holding his face still so both could indulge. 

* * *

His throne room wasn't draped with dashiki patterns like the ignorant of the outside world assumed. His chair carved from ivory in Bast's likeness its flat rose past his head. The Panther goddess's face behind his any at his front received new imperatives. To his left, the Queen Mother, a proud parent. To his right, the Princess of Themyscira, a potential spouse. A mix of browns and golds on flags falling from the ceiling and stitched into each were large black cats able to maul the strongest men. Like their king the Hatut Zeraze were cowless and determined. They lined the floor like a rampart of ninja. 

"—That is all. We will speak of it soon, N'Gassi. You’re dismissed," T'Challa finished. Shaven, headstrong and ready to impress his finest soldier took his squad with him. Six of the Dora Milaje were allowed to stay put but his secret police were to leave as their work was done. Diana looked for lights that weren't visible. As it was well past dusk she wondered how that area could be so well lit. 

"Ayo. Aneka." Two more of his youngest followers, not yet in their twenties, brought activated spears with their strut. "Make sure Faust's body is placed into one of the resuscitation vats. I want daily updates on his cadaver. Time will tell if he is truly deceased." 

"Your will is ours." 

"Your will is ours." 

Diana assumed the women present were even more annoyed with her. It took seeing each of their faces and Ramonda's bright smile. She was wrong. As T'Challa was pleased, they were. Revealing no emotion was their duty. Nevertheless an Amazon they didn't trust in the least protected their king and Wakandan interests. The proof was their return and his being in good health. Ramonda needed no such evidence. She closed in to take Diana’s hands like she was already a daughter. Off to one side T'Challa followed their chat a little too at ease. He remained seated at least a tad longer. 

"Okoye, Nakia, A'di, A'kane. Leave us," was his final command for the evening. 

The four addressed weren't slow to depart. So wide and now emptied Diana and Ramonda's talk echoed from impenetrable walls. The Queen Mother kissed her forehead, joining those leaving to give the couple some time. When the princess walked up three stairs she turned to face what would one day belong to her. Less archaic, more contemporary, the throne room's opulent also wreaked of technology she didn't try to understand. She eventually hoped to. 

"You’ll get used to it."

She took a place between his knees. Standing tall Diana went with casual, sitting on his lap, a finger under his chin to lift his stare.  

"What did Steve and Tony say?" 

"They were surprised. Steve harped on what it meant for Wakanda and Themyscira. Tony harped on, as he put it, _your_ _being off the market before his gaining a chance to_ —" 

"To square a date with me. Yes. We all have our delusions. His happen to be utterly ridiculous," she sighed rolling her eyes. 

"Hmph. What of Clark and Bruce? Your friend at ARGUS will want to know also," he remarked through her fondling of his facial hair. 

"Don’t remind me." Her stare veered. "The JA, everyone else on this world, they know nothing of Ares' grit. He will never stop. You stand in his path, as I do. He will not rest until all of what we love burns. That is the true definition of a god's hatred. Pure, unadulterated, and now, stoked because of our interference." 

She stood not intending to. T'Challa joined her worried little for what he may have fueled. A god's rage wasn't her peace of mind, the more important of two concepts. 

"Let him come," he said as if its import was a failed joke. "Gods are a predictable lot. Yours are no more petty than the rest." 

Diana turned but not fully. His total lack of fear may have been what attracted her most. He wasn't invulnerable like aliens powered by yellow suns. He couldn't run faster than the speed of light, or to and from the annals of time in the span of a few seconds. What the others lacked he had in abundance. Her eyes moved from his pupils to his mouth. She then found that his staring was to give her a guarantee that he was present and always would be. 

"—You will join me in your quarters?" 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"No—" 

Taking his hand he eyed the plump of her bottom as she moved and the briefs barely clothing it. She looked to his bulge more anxious to see it without a blackened layer hiding it from her. No crazed gods, fellow do-gooders, nor crystal forests to plague her mind any longer. She only contemplated one night and the many to come.

* * *

**_10 Days Too Short..._ **  

Her office assets were paired; two chairs, two corded phones, two monitors, for two people. Her desk was a wrap around. Then there was the plug-in-anywhere pot in which Etta Candy brewed redbush tea. The mugs were ceramic. Behind Diana's seat and past opened blinds was a hectic she couldn’t wait to leave. New York City was the second to last stop. She sipped her drink and its hint of bitter sweetness, too good for her to not know the recipe. She looked to her perky assistant. Etta was cutesy, softer around the edges, her blonde curls neck-length she usually spoke her mind. More than usually. 

"Nerves, girlie. You've stood in front of worse. How bad can facing her down be?" 

Diana looked from her computer screen. When her face wasn't buried in it she caught Etta's raised eyebrow across the room. "If I’m found unworthy—" She stared off leaving the bun tied because letting her hair down wouldn't change the facts. 

"She'll eat you whole. So I hear." Etta flashed a smile leaning at the fore of her boss's desk. Etta was bold. She had no superpowers yet would stand before the mightiest Centaur if it meant considering others. It sparked a knowing chuckle from the princess. Etta tossed her a newspaper. Diana recognized the headline, not yet a day old. 

"—Have we declared war on every nation? These claims are absurd!" she said at annoying lies. 

"Think of it this way. Themyscira's embassy merging with Wakanda's is a declaration. Much as we may disagree Wonder Woman the queen's a little more threatening than Wonder Woman the princess. Hubby's not hubby yet but when he is, that's paranoia doubled for everybody wanting your countries off the map. More off the map," Etta said. "They're already beating a dead horse at not getting your resources. Have been for years." 

Diana leaned back in her chair to unbutton her blazer. Man's world made no sense. Not their ignorance. Not their _politics_. She looked to a lapel pin signifying a joint venture soon in effect. Glancing from it Etta offered her a wink and rosy cheeks. One friend made the other grin. 

"Why must you always be right?" she lightly smiled. 

Etta, back to work on her computer, tried nonchalance when she replied with, "My blessing's ain't all showy. Now you relax. Here." She stood to pour more tea shaking her head and watching what she held. "T'Challa's gonna get through Athena's tests. You're gonna get through Bast's. Then you kids'll take a nice siesta somewhere uncharted for the honeymoon. Keep your mind on that hunk of a man you're marrying. Be glad you cuffed him before I could," she wryly joked. Her polka dot dress a mix of 50's classic and present day casual, it suited her. 

"Oh I am,” the chuckling Diana said. “Hera knows I’m no match for you." 

Etta tossed her boss something else. Diana caught an aspirin bottle and pulled at a thermos cap ready to fill it. Returning to her seat the former typed faster than most. She was skilled enough, not needing to watch the work, her eyes on Diana's taking it easy. A telephone ringing cut the respite short. It was Etta who took one from its base. 

"Ambassador Prince's office. She's indisposed and for the love of God let the woman have a break for five seconds. How may I help you?" Confirmation was a tricky thing to wait for. "That I can do. Hang on one second for me." 

Diana reached for another phone as Etta set down the first. 

"Hello?" 

“ **That secretary of yours is an interesting one.** ” 

"If only you know how interesting, uwar." She slumped back, relieved. "Have you addressed the elders concerns?" 

“ **I will.** **Addressing them is my specialty. Fret not, child.** ” 

The next question was harder to bring life to. 

"Surely the issue is more serious?" 

“ **Your only concern, Diana of Themyscira, should be your contentment. Do you understand?** ” 

Diana looked to her skirt like a prepubescent girl scolded for mischief. There was stress to contend with, or was, as it was forcefully taken and with little more than a parent's words. She demonstrated proper thanks in saying, "Yes, Queen Mother." 

* * *

Not everyone had a seat at the table; a lengthy, curved rectangle forged from vibranium but doused in marigold. Joining him at it was the Queen Mother. His finest soldier. Four tribal heads who paid little attention to holograms at the front of anyone present. The room's width, like most of the palace's, gave everyone space to think or to keep intentions quiet. 

"Your lover—" 

"Your future queen, Hodari. Choose your next words carefully," T'Challa corrected before an elder could finish. The glance Ramonda shot her son wasn't to reprimand. As a courtesy the Black Panther's cowl remained off because expressions were vital. His scowl needed to be seen. 

"You misunderstand, my king. I was merely going to mention her need to continue these—heroic escapades," Hodari said creasing the wrinkles on his scarred face. A tribal custom to mark his forehead with seven slits it was a decades old practice though he cared little for its significance. "Our borders are stronger, yes, now that ties to Themyscira remain at an all time high. My concern is not for our allies. Do you not see that her running around with the likes of the Justice Avengers could present a problem, with ramifications that supersede good intentions?" 

"You dare to question the king's intentions?!" N'Gassi interrupted, a younger man with a hotter head. T'Challa calmed him with the slightest nod. He then looked to his mother, ever guiding without saying a peep nor needing to hold his hand. As she wasn't the one he would address he eyed his elders. 

"My working with the Justice Avengers has always been in the interest of protecting Wakanda. That will not change. Diana is different. She does not represent the interests of one nation only. Wonder Woman is an ideal. It is not our place to hinder what she embodies. I will not. You will not," he proclaimed. Impenetrable barriers looked no different from windows stretching to join the ceiling. 

Just past them was the palace courtyard, and beyond that, civilians. His people weren't aware of tribal meetings that could alter the course of their lives on a whim. Hodari's rising with the others broke T'Challa's thought. 

"We need her here. She will not belong to the world anymore. _You’re_ seeing to that," he mostly hissed. "Queen Mother—perhaps you can make him also see reason." 

Hodari and his peers clergy garments were as important as Azari’s. T’Challa believed they only lacked the humility. N'Gassi and Ramonda his only company the king depowered video footage of world events left on. 

"N'Gassi." 

"We’re watching him, my king," N'Gassi confirmed. He stood so he could bow to those he served. The next to leave T'Challa waited until he had. His hand gloved he no less felt Ramonda's placing hers above it. 

"Hodari and your father have a lot in common," she smiled. "It is why they got on so well. Most of the time." 

"I know. Taking it personally would be foolish," he replied. His Habit on it was weightless, but the itch at the back of his neck wasn't a result of the armor. "Do they think me a defector? Like Achebe. Have I been away too often to see it?" 

Ramonda stood placing his head between her palms. She kissed his scalp and held his attention up as it dropped a bit. "Walk among them. Let them look you in the eye before the day's end. You will have your answer." 

"Queen Mother, my king," one of his guards entered with. "The Amazon princess has entered our airspace. She’s headed for the Alkama Fields." 

A pause both was and wasn't to admire his Dora. "—I'll meet her there." 

* * *

Red-scarved they clutched automatic weaponry with scowls, standing guard. Shipping crates lined the main deck. Some of them smoked to pass the time as they thought little of what they kept within the crates. One of their ranks happened to look into the sky. Looking into the sky meant one of two things. 

"Cadowgu! Cadowgu!" 

His comrades heard the fear so they trained all sights. Their leader in control of the captain's deck barked the order to watch the bound and gagged. A new arrival was right to guess there would be hostages, not that he needed to. He could pinpoint each expand of their lungs regardless of his place in the world. Loud horns put anyone on high alert. 

They scrutinized everything about him; the effortless levitation, the bright of a recognizable emblem matching a cloak's wave. Disgust set on the murderers and kidnappers below. He fell waiting for them to squeeze rusted triggers. When he left the sky he walked toward one of the crates ripping a door free and tossing it aside, its spark from the friction of metal on metal. 

He knew he'd see the blameless deceased and piled like rotting fish, the sight much like the stench, a nightmare. His attention set on those seeing the clench of his hand. More unsettling was the hotness seeping around his eyelids. The sound of frantic gunfire began and he took to disarming. He snapped limbs with a powerful blitz, however tempered. 

Holding back was his burden. They fired at his motion, or tried to, hot lead bouncing from his speeding to and fro. Defeating fifteen and lunging into a soar there were survivors one leader and his followers threatened to shoot as they were short on options. He remained before the chamber, relaxed for their sake. 

"Dhaqaaqo oo waxaan iyagii u dilaan?!" 

Lightning could never strike faster. Their guns were in pieces, they were incognizant and it happened in less than a second. His float into a new opening was to rip the rope that bound sore legs and hands, to pull at tape over dried mouths. 

"Waa okay hadda," he promised in a much kinder dialect. 

An idea brought him from the grateful into the air again. Looping around the ship's side and through the ocean he positioned beneath it. One grimace for the cruiser's lift as he pressed smoother fingers into slicker metal. Shoving with the top of his back, carrying too much weight on his shoulders, he left the water in search of the nearest shore. 

Local fishermen were the initial response. Theirs was wonder in the feat of a flying cargo ship and the tiny individual lugging it. He let himself and his catch descend. Those in the way jogged out of his. Careful when setting the heft down it took up much of the waterfront and he made sure it couldn't tip over. 

( _Fancy seeing you on this side of the pond._ ) 

A call out put a halt in everything. Leaping from his toes took him higher and the wide eyed that still gaped couldn't follow. He slowed enough to linger too far up for anyone but the birds to care. 

( _The frequency of a dog whistle, Superman. I'm sure you can trace it to the origin._ ) 

"What will I find when I get there?" 

( _A friend of mine who'd like a chat with the so-called man of steel. He's a lot like you. Minus the sickening compassion. We'll use simple math. He's willing to kill everyone populating the city of Stockholm at my command. You gonna humor me, or what?_ ) 

"You've left me no choice," he said. "Who am I speaking with now?" 

( _Ask the Black Panther when you see him next. This is all his fault, really._ ) 

The resolve was unfettered, his pace surpassed swift, he soon found the forest treeline he homed in on ready to drop. His feet hit the dust like a wayward comet pushing much of it from excessive leg strength. An abandoned structure to his right, and from it, a figure emerged. A twin he'd never met as he had no other explanation for a man of identical everything. Emerald marbles for eyes a trait to distinguish them, a cloak of the same scarlet draped from the fold of malleable arms but his black, gold and green crest denoted the Boer Republics. What he assumed were veins reaching from its neck surged at a moment's notice. 

" **Superman**." 

It started with the struggle to breathe. Nausea he experienced before like the pulse of a sonar ping gaining in intensity. He couldn't control the fuzz in his vision. 

"Hnnh," he somehow muttered at the slight of a burn in his chest. 

" **Well holy hell**. **I** **t really does work**." 

A hand on his heart he stayed in his wits, fighting it. The other _it_ before him played it cool. Like Superman there was an allure in the flap of its cape whenever the wind picked up. It revealed the shine of its palm. Conjuring a sphere, it fired first. Superman stormed into overcast from a too weak jump and consecutive blasts tried to blaze him from it. One singed his shoulder as his opponent arrived at his back. Swinging a heel, it missed, but the follow-up against his cheek didn't. 

He reeled into the ground smashing into and through thick bark before a slide across dirt. He barely brought himself into a wobble. His enemy appeared too fast to swing two fists into his blocks. His bones rattled at the heft of its punches, their velocity. It dug a blow into his gut snatching him by the hair to force his face against hard, separating it. 

" **C** ' **mon** , **Superman**! **At least** **make it interesting**!" 

And as if to respond with it Superman glared crimson grafting the clone's neck with a shot. He lobbed heavier hands to strike his enemy's jaw twice in the float to his footing. Knocked away it dug its own boots through the soil. The nobler of the pair wiped a bloody nose. He spat some of it in disbelief that his opponent could even draw it. It was the worst anyone should ever feel. The vast of his talent drawn from an infinite well, more like torn from it, excruciating as it left by the second. 

"Your generator—the kryptonite powering it," he huffed. "Where did you get it?" 

"— **Stay out of our way**. **Achebe said to only warn you once**." 

Superman could watch a new foe shift up but he didn't give chase. As much as he'd oppose it, the warning was not only loud, but clear. 

  

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

_****_****There was a coolness to the dust storm kicked up. African winds could be cruel no matter the season. Endless sod was at its driest. She would say Gaia was thirsty. A family of five watched but it was the youngest daughter she noticed; a pretty thing, tiny, skinny as a rail and bow-legged. Her glistened muscles flexed to pull a plow bigger than the family's hut. The girl's awe in seeing her so willing to get her hands dirty left her without a breath to free. She held it in. Breathing might destroy the miracle. Diana smiled as if to say she can one day grow to do impossible things, lugging heavy metal to cultivate parched earth, showing no strain for it.

"Will you help me?" she called out.  

The girl looked to her mother and father first, asking in quiet, a twinkle in her eyes as they gave her the go ahead. She nearly tripped over herself when running. Diana dropped to one knee. At eye level with her little admirer she showed her what was to be done.  

"Here are the sweet potato seeds. You will determine the first spot." 

She dropped what she held into tiny palms cupping to catch them. There was hesitation. The girl wanted to impress, of course. Diana chuckled as she pouted looking back and forth over too much space to comb. 

"I—I cannot find one," she said frustrated.  

Diana placed a thumb under her chin gently lifting it. Gazing at the diadem's red star first she then searched the Amazon’s stare.  

"Will it even rain? People say Mujaji is displeased with us." 

"What is your name, little sister?" 

"Zane." 

"Zane is a beautiful name." 

"Thank you." 

Diana dug her hand into soil primed for planting.  

"We will place them here."  

She guided Zane's hand to bury the seeds folding dirt over some of it tossed aside.  

"I promise you. In ninety days these will have matured. Anything else you plant will do the same. If you see no results, I will commune with Mujaji myself." 

"Y-you can speak with the gods?!" 

"I can." 

Zane and Diana turned to view her family preparing to kiss the sandals of a king telling them not to. Behind the black robed T'Challa were Ayo and Aneka appreciating his modesty, hands not so tight around weapons meant for enemies. Diana took Zane by hers to join the conversation, locking eyes with T'Challa without cause to. He crouched to share in Zane's glee. 

"May I borrow her for a moment?" he nodded. 

"You may, my king." Zane replied granting him the slightest bow. Diana dropped to hug the girl; her parents not so fearful as she initially believed. Seeing royalty walk off the day's highlight their visiting mattered more. Clouds forming had little to do with Diana's promising that it would rain. Tell that to poor farmers told mere minutes ago it would. T'Challa led her across an open expanse. Parked among the Alkama Fields was the Royal Talon yet they seemed to move away from it. Hands held behind his back T'Challa kept his gaze forward and his smile light. Diana knew mischief when she saw it. 

"What have you done?" she boldly asked. 

"Offered them a home among the city. Their declining was expected," he said as he glanced. Her local garments weren't so different from his mother’s, less purple, less fabric, it allowed freedom of movement and the style was welcomed. She caught on to his giving her cuffs, tiara and lasso a once over. A smile spread she wanted to watch the land she would lay claim to. The fields were soon a haven for white reeds. She stretched her hand out to brush through as many as she could. 

"Can you blame them?" she asked. 

"No." He did as she did. "This is peace. True peace." 

There was no minding the breeze. He stopped because she stopped. She took his hands keeping an eye on them. They were rough, like hers, somewhat calloused, the hands of combatants because their way wasn't always peaceful. She didn't ask for permission with her unblinking gaze. Placing his palm against her cheek she held it there daring him to protest. 

"You’re thinking it will not last," he understood. 

"Believe that an end to my mission is the dream. The hope," she quickly replied. As he moved from her, the Dora moved, ever watchful of the pair regardless of their being in the middle of nowhere. His enhanced sight could see the Golden City's outline, miles from their talk. He often forgot any of it belonged to him. 

"Superman was attacked by a synthetic—its features identical to his own. It wore a crest representing the South African flag." He kept his back turned to her. "Achebe used telepathy to lure him into a trap. Clark mentioned the kryptonite harnessed was potent enough to end his life if not for his resistance to it. It was smoke and mirrors. Achebe has acquired a power unlike any other." 

She brazenly slid her fingers along his nape. Walking to his front she brought those same digits along his jawline, using a few to stroke his firm chin. There was a resolve to her emoting before her grin curved to throw him off. His scoff was a brief laugh he couldn't help. Smiles faded as the time for kidding wasn't then. 

"The trials are more disconcerting?" he assumed as inner conflict was her expression in spades. 

"Probably," she confirmed. “Who can know until they happen? I only ask that you come back to me. In one piece.” 

"That is asking a lot." 

Her hand clutching the back of his head she slowly pulled his brow to hers. Her skin quivered from the feel of his arms trapping her hips and lower back. It was her decision to push her pelvis against his. She closed her eyes, letting him squeeze as hard as he wanted.

"—If we are to end him, then we will do so together," was her final response. She released his head if only to see eyes able to sooth. His were steady, dark, amber pearls. He didn't need to speak. A king yielding to his queen was Wakandan tradition. The norm aged gracefully. 

* * *

**_1 Day Before..._ **  

Finding no one else around, shunting herself into and out of a paranormal plane she appeared from it easily. A seething barrier ripped open to allow it. Briefly suspending herself she plopped on her toes and gloves, splashing fresh rainwater under combat boots and fishnets. An alleyway in Mount Eden was about as inconspicuous as anything like it could be. 

"Why ask me to meet you here?" 

Staying still above the ground with folded arms wasn't limited to Superman. But there her colleague was. Looking up after her pause, clad in a single-breasted shirt and bow tie, she grinned. 

"Some people look down on this part of the Bronx. It keeps me humble," she said, her tone softer but rebellious. Wonder Woman couldn't put a finger on why it worked. "Am I supposed to bow now, or?" 

"I'd rather you didn't." 

"You and T'Challa are in for a doozy." 

"How so?" Diana set herself down. The one she watched took a step forward. "It is imperative you tell me exactly what we’re dealing with, Zatanna. Is it magic or not?" 

Zatanna's babyface didn't change the Amazon's blank.  

"Atta girl. A day before the wedding and rearing to go," she teased, hands on her shapely hips. "Here's what. You're aware of my father's illustrious career." 

"I used to be." 

There was an ease, a magnetism, mutual respect without effort. Diana blamed Zatanna's easygoing. The latter delayed her answer. 

"That's why I called you here. Look I know you've got enough on your plate but the guys who might be the issue are real pricks with a hard on for magic users—or items with enough power to meet their needs. They couldn't help Achebe anyway. Daddy thought he banished what can to a dimension where grass is carnivorous and everything for miles has an itch to snack on the nearest homosapien. Don't ask." 

Out of her depth Diana wanted to press but wouldn't. 

"It gets worse," Zatanna said before she could. "Two relics. One of which T'Challa keeps stored wherever he hangs his claws. Want my advice? Ask him if you can chuck it into the sun. I have a feeling it'll spare you grief. As for Achebe—" 

Diana knew little of Zatanna's father and what his efforts meant. A new prospect still hooked. 

"Yes?" she said impatiently. 

Zatanna clapped dust from the gloves she looked to and not because they were sullied. 

"The only way I can render it inert is to retrieve the counter. It'll be no picnic and we're likely to die trying," she said nonchalantly. 

"It is of no consequence. We need to stop him," Diana replied, adamant. “I have no doubt Barbara Minerva is involved.” 

"—Wonderful. Well. It's like I said. It'll take some time to prepare. A few days, tops. Do me a solid and relax until then. We'll get it done," Zatanna smirked gaining one from her friend. She switched gears. "Congrats on the recent merger." 

"Thank you. The public image of Wakanda and Themyscira will be better for it." 

"Speaking of hazardous places. You ready for the real thing? Co-rulership I mean. Tell me it'll be like living at the swankiest spa and being waited on hand and foot every day."  

Zatanna checked around to make sure her cloaking spell was still in effect. Diana watched the pavement, lightly laughing at her and something unrelated. 

"They once called me Hadari Yao. They still do. That reverence is pretty much unchanged. Walking among the public, addressing them even, picking out which stares are sincere is a chore I do not delight in. Their calling me queen will be awkward enough." 

"Leave it to you to _not_ take advantage of the perks." 

"Does that disappoint?"  

"A little." Zatanna had the manner of an entertainer, bubbly but mysterious, raven-haired with Romany good looks and violet surrounding her pupils. Despite their differences she was also one of a small few that could speak candidly with her. 

"Talk with him first. Let him know it was my idea if you catch hell for bringing it up. I imagine it's a touchy subject." She backed off. "And take my advice about the one T’Challa recovered from Faust. Get rid of it. The thing's no joke." 

Merging with a plume she left the physical plane in favor of another. Diana stood back as a purplish light left a warm afternoon. Their chat placed on hold Zatanna also left her with a small piece of papyrus. She crouched, unsure as anyone would be to open it. 

_… Say “Summon Zee” when you're ready_... 

Memorizing the information, what she dropped dispersed as a sparkling powder taken by the wind. 

* * *

? 

Ocean waves tossed about. Harpies flitted above it all. He wouldn't have solace for long. The realm was divine. The monsters it sheltered weren't so comforting. His assegai was used for throwing; a javelin pointed with a fire-hardened tip. No vibranium for the trials. Barely any clothing at all, as it were. His Nguni shield also traditional, pointed oval-shaped and covered in an ox's hide other African customs included a kilt of genet tails, war paints under his eyelids, across his chest, back and brow. 

He squeezed his weapons for whatever was next. What else could be next? He’d already bested several monsters most only encountered in tall tales. Appearing from thin air was a being too ethereal to be any norm; tall, slim, with blueish eyes trickling light, her suit of armor and golden helmet coated her walk on water. An aegis on her left arm and spear in her right hand where she moved the glinting followed. The snow owl perched on her shoulder buckle no mere pet but the embodiment of infinite wisdom. 

" ** _She is my most-favored champion. A product of the Amazons. My eldest children. You have proven your love for her. Now prove you are able to protect_ ** **_her—with_ ** **_your very life if need be._** " 

T'Challa dropped to one knee crossing his implements. He lowered his head. 

"Your will be done, Pallas Athena." 

" ** _Speak with your actions, T'Challa._** " 

And with that she left him. To what he wouldn't know. He relied on the air smelling like sugared-salts, the sea's waves like kelp wrapped in banana leaves. It was what lurked beneath turning any pleasant odors to rancid ones. The deserted island shaking not due to an earthquake what peeked from a swirling pool dwarfed most beasts of myth. Large spikes on its gray-green suckers, eyes black as large, ebony gems, it leered at the puny king thinking him an easy kill. T'Challa girded more than his loins. The monster's roar shook sandy shores and anything else loose. Its tentacles slammed what it rose from lifting most of it into colored lights shimmering across the sky. All the while he stood firm. He didn't think of Diana. He didn't think of anything. His next action depended entirely on the Kraken's. 

* * *

? 

Flakes fell from the heavens. They weren't snowdrops and yet she couldn't shake the cold. She couldn't do away with any feelings of loneliness. There were trees to all sides of the realm, baobabs, but not as lush as any found on the continent. The sky was a shifting vapor never steady like a brilliant watercolor painting able to move. Grass blades were lighter than cotton and translucent like carved shards of raw diamond. Diana had no weapons to defend herself; no lasso, no cuffs, no tiara, nothing enchanted. She was alone—until her only company revealed itself. 

" ** _THE PRETEND GODDESS. HOW ARE YOU WORTHY OF MY CHILD?_ ** " 

Massive wasn't the right word for the anthropomorphic deity in all her splendor. Her fur as ivory as their setting, more so than Diana's sleeveless chiton, it was also pure. Bast leaned its imposing nose towards her. Diana stood tall like her life depended on it. 

"You came to my defense before, Great Bast. I imagine you would do nothing of the sort if I were not worthy," she answered assuredly.  

Bast's breath like a mighty gust couldn't ruffle the Amazon's feathers. Just ahead of her nostrils she sniffed her and not only for her worth. 

" ** _LIE TO ME, AMAZON, AND I WILL DEVOUR YOU._** " 

Diana waited with a saint's patience. Her response to Bast's next question was important, though not as important as seeing him again. Bast's eyes were lime-teal boulders shining. Her pointed ears turned back she exposed perfectly sharp fangs, meaning what she said. 

" ** _WHY DO YOU STRUGGLE FOR HIM? WHAT IS MY CHILD TO YOU?_ ** " 

"He is my equal. I never claimed to be a goddess. I am flawed, as most are, and at times in need of direction. The safety of his people, your devout, is important to me. As important as each of my sisters whom I know by name and creed," Diana replied. "If I am to die here so be it. My only request is a humble one. Please continue to watch over he and his. The world needs your chosen." 

Bast's head turned slightly as if the Amazon's gall puzzled. Diana didn't so much as flinch whenever the goddess decided to move any muscle. There was no weakness either could exploit. 

" ** _—YOU CAME FOR MY BLESSING, AMAZON. YOU WILL HAVE IT._** " 

Her tongue nearly smothered Diana as she licked her from the waist up. She then stood upright on her paws, a monument skulking like the gigantic cat she was, and vanished into the thick mist she appeared from. Diana relaxed. It was finally safe to exhale. 

* * *

On the outskirts of Birnin Zana, the Golden City, there was plenty of mystique to go with beating drums. The Black Panther arrived for the crowd awaiting him. Dropping from the Royal Talon with acrobatic finesse, flipping until his feet caught his weight, their protector's traditional Habit proved his title. The ceremony platform also caught the falling, pink orchid petals, not a bother to Ramonda. Unlike T'Challa's midnight her royal colors remained violet for the occasion. Her smile wide she couldn't help herself.  

"Where is your bride?" she asked.  

T'Challa smiled and she knew he smiled though the cowl did its best to erase it. 

"I don't know. Did you scare her off?"  

"How could I?" she remarked flippantly. Her eyes lit up to join sharp gasps from those watching. "Ah. There she is." 

As T'Challa turned a sight to behold arrived from the air, not the aisle. Drummers lining the crowd palmed their instruments with more fervor. Wonder Woman's dress was a mix of cultures; the gold offset burgundy layered with Wakandan purple, shoulderless, low-cut, split at the leg. Its folds were rhythmic and in sync with her onyx tresses. Their audience were a mix of locals, Amazons guarding the Amazon Queen, and friends. 

It seemed the whole of his nation and its visitors shushed at her slow plunge. T'Challa tugged his cowl from awe. He didn't dare take his gaze from her to see what brought about the hush. The whispers kept. Some wondered how the measure of her beauty could be as natural. Upon landing Diana could spot Etta's sobs. Her embassy staff were transfixed not unlike those of the metahuman community that were invited. It took Ramonda's grabbing their hands and lifting them. 

"The Panther Goddess has blessed this couple. Pity anyone who would stand in the path of their happiness," she pronounced. "Now. Let us celebrate their love!" 

All smiles when she took one step back she watched Diana wrap her arms around T'Challa's neck to bring him close. The cheers, the music, it all drowned out as their lips met. Ramonda continued to speak but her son contemplated his wife's tang, her blessed scent. His seraph. Her daughter-in-law contemplated her husband's holding her tight enough for even her to register. Her rock. Festivities were expected but, in the moment, sufficed. 

* * *

Their ceremony continued well into the afternoon. There would be laughter, tears shed, moments of absolute pauses running the day's length. By its end the newlyweds found themselves, of all things, dawdling, barefoot, and lax. The banks of the Nyanza lake were too tempting a backdrop. Diana's dress clinging loosely to every motion she glanced from still waters. Her hand gripping his, she thought it necessary. T'Challa tried at keeping his eyes from her. 

"Did you see Batman's face?" she asked. 

"The slight grin or the slight irritation?" he smirked. "Both were hard to miss." 

Diana noticed his poise encouraging it with hers. She then said, "Our mothers talked longer than usual. But of all things keeping me on my toes today, I did not expect to see Steve." 

"Nor did I. Adulthood reminds us of what matters most, as it should." He looked ahead. There was no ego in holding his chin high. No need to boast. He returned his attention as she chuckled. "It is good to hear your laugh."  

"You will hear more of it when I have you to myself." 

He glanced to her assaulting him with a stare running its course. 

"Bottle that enthusiasm. I would hate for you to misplace it." 

"Tell me something first," she replied. "As they watched—was it obvious?" 

T'Challa's sigh couldn't sour the mood.

"Expect annoyance from the Tribal Council. Not our citizens. Believe me. It was harder to face the scrutiny of your sisters." 

"Do tell," she grinned. She gently kicked up soil with her toe tips pressing her arm to his. She was close enough for him to see her tiara, unscathed, not that it shouldn't be. "You defeated the Kraken. I had my doubts, sweet prince." 

"Ouch," he said just as cheeky. "Your confidence in my ability to survive a monster the size of the royal palace is appreciated." 

"How did you?" 

"Its weak spots were not its tentacles. It shunned any attack to the eyes, so I struck the only vulnerable area on its body causing it to flee." 

"Which was?" she pressed giving her undivided. It was childlike. Her want to know how to best any opponent he both adored and could make fun of. She caught on as he said nothing.  

"Congratulations,” she play frowned. “You have wormed your way out of a fool's errand. Again." 

Diana forgot the scenic beauty only a step or two to anywhere they looked. It was somehow immaterial. She pulled at T'Challa's chin until his mouth met the moist of hers. A brief kiss, staring into his eyes let her remind herself to stop, so they did. Anything else should be the furthest thing from their minds. That was the promise needing no sound to give it power. In the moment sufficed. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**_17 Days Happier?..._ **

She slammed the heft of a support column through their electronics. They would be hard-pressed to restore the operation. That was the point. Excited matter a maelstrom spraying from their weapons her bracers repelled hot shots. She swung her xiphos to cut through their toys and any extra ammunition they carried. 

"Would you like to tell me how you knew AIM were using an abandoned school?!" she shouted over the gunfire. She lobbed a man clad in tacky yellow through four dressed like him. It was a chore to hear over the destruction. Even harder to see. 

“ **Men may lie. The Kimoyo Card does not. AIM hirelings have been stationed here in secret for months.** ” 

"Such a despicable act," Diana scoffed chucking something heavy into a wall to close a gap.  

No more would find their way in. She sheathed her sword swiping dust from her shoulder. It happened in an instant; she tore away a bomb strapped to her next opponent's chest trampling it under her boot and barely feeling its worth. The muffled blast dirtying her thigh blew a hole in the floor instead. Hoisting him by the throat high enough that his feet dangled any that could help him were wrapped with piping ripped from the walls. 

"That was uncalled for," she said keeping him still. "I’m looking for someone. If you have earned Hera's favor, he is here, meaning I will not return." 

"Ba zan gaya muku komai ba. Abin baƙin ciki, Amazon! Release me! Ahhn!" 

"—Kuna da wauta kamar yadda kuke kallo." Diana flicked his helmet knocking him out. Not having to touch a bluetooth smaller than a hearing aid wasn't what worried her. "T'Challa. They're speaking Hausa. That is not a coincidence." 

“ **No. It strengthens a theory. I’m approaching their comms room now.** ” 

* * *

His regalia was a skintight lie in that it could never be penetrated by any force known to man. He pressed it with his back to chipped plaster. To his right, a hallway's opposing end. Underneath the menacing cowl determination peeked around a corner to count six heavily armed and guarding doors. They were desperate. Fearful. He leapt a few feet from his post. Two were felled by his sudden weight and lightning fast claw swipes. Anti-metal could slice through anything. On his feet he clutched the gun a third held pushing its frame through a hazmat-visor. His heel struck an approaching skull as he jerked the killer in his grasp. A strike to his neck put him down. He snagged the incoming knife lunge. Breaking the arm of the one holding it a blow to the chest was his comeuppance. All dropped too swiftly binding the limbs of his prey wasn't necessary. It would waste more time. The king disassembled their weapons, piece by piece. 

“ **Patience,** **my love** **.** **You must not forget to enjoy yourself.** ” 

"Give it time." He remained the slightly more professional of the two, but never the more competitive. Bundles of plastic explosive poked from the gear of his enemies. He didn't need it. "This is Achebe's work. Without question. He has poisoned the minds of these men." 

“ **So** **the artifact amplifies his telepathy as well. Interesting. What else?** ” 

"We shall see," T'Challa replied all about progress. 

As twin doors were thrown from their hinges he burst into a tighter space. They'd feel his crushing the back of their knees. He rolled grappling a leg bringing one down to strike a helmet with razor sharp toes. A kip-up to his feet he parried a fist carving a response into a calf. His prey's holler from sharp pain was of its tearing open. Selected gadgetry in the shape of a golden card he tossed it watching its built-in magnet latch onto hardware in need of a tune up. 

"I’ve cleared the room," he said as alert as he should be. "and started the data wipe." 

“ **Good.** **There's no one left to humble.** ” 

He scoured spots to stick charges of a unique alloy. Slipping through an exit he departed a makeshift chamber once serving as a classroom. Vibration reached a pique and the walls came crumbling down. Powered control panels split before catching fire. He made sure his device didn't increase the effect too much. It wasn't honorable to kill the unconscious. The building scheduled for demolition he was outside to see its fenced off perimeter and the American city it belonged to. A flying wonder swooping from inside decaying rubble held herself in the air.  

"Word of our success has reached Avengers Mansion," she said bringing herself down and forward. "New updates to the suit?"  

His garb's necklace shined a different polish losing none of what made it special. 

"Old updates. This is your first time seeing them," he said.  

His attention on his favored tool what she did with hers was her business. As the Black Panther glanced up from it Wonder Woman was closer. Both would raise all awareness to the sky. His troop ship was nothing like a Quinjet and for all of the right reasons. Its cloaking deactivated to expose sleek mass taking up a place above them. Gunmetal black shaped like the Great Cat's maw and engines were near silent Diana barely caught on to its arrival on the scene. 

"And before you ask, no, you cannot take it on a joy ride," he turned his head to say. The base of his tease wasn't the reason she laughed. 

"It’s no Invisible Jet," she bragged running a finger along its hull. "This Achebe. How dangerous is he really?"

She watched him activate the cockpit. He allowed her climbing into its twin seats first, but he took the flight wheel. They were off the ground before Diana received an answer. 

"He was a Ghudazan farmer nicknamed Bob who tended to leftist rebels from the neighboring country of Ujanka. The men were driven across the Ghudazan-Ujankan border and onto his property. They repaid his kindness by leaving him for dead after they seduced his wife, razed his farm, and stabbed him thirty-two times. Promising his soul and allegiance to _your_ god, Hades, is the only logical reason he could have survived. Those are but urban legends hitting too close to home."

T'Challa tapped the closest interface forming around his pointer. "Despite his insanity he is a brilliant schemer." 

Diana didn't take her eyes from what he wore over his head. She loosened her neck muscles, realizing a fact. 

"Then he would be expecting us to involve the others," she said for its inconvenience. "He thinks like you do. My guess is he is already five steps ahead of us." 

"Precisely. It is why we cannot afford the luxury of mistakes," T'Challa warned prepping a cruise control. The Talon's engines shushed but wouldn't burn out all the way. 

"For Barbara's sake," Diana said pinching her chin. 

"So no hands-on approach?" T'Challa glanced when saying. 

"To what?"  

"Everything," he smirked keeping an eye on ship duty. "You're giving me _that_ look for a reason." 

"Paranoia again. I only wish to exhaust all of our options." She shot a light grin his way. "You have not asked of what kind." 

"Should I?" T'Challa would ask. Diana scoffed her smile. Discussing what lied ahead wasn't so urgent. At the very least the little moments were to be savored. 

* * *

She followed the styled pattern of his custom as it snatched any brightness hitting it. Both standing indoors, in a new embassy's quarters, in the outfits, why it made her chuckle was no given. She bent over to set a Siamese cat down watching it scurry to his feet. 

"Atlas approves of you," she mocked aware of its purrs. She pulled her tiara off first. Tossed into T'Challa's catch she didn't mind his eyeing her like a hawk. Working her way to her boots it dawned on her. "Have you learned anything else?" 

"The artifact has no connection to Ares." T'Challa placed her accessory on a mattress but not before taking his Kimoyo Card from it. Folding into itself not once, but twice, it was no bigger than a nickle when he attached it to his Habit's necklace. “You wish to redeem the irredeemable.” 

"Barbara’s condition is partly my doing, T’Challa."  

"And your helping her will make amends?"

Diana had no answer. She rolled her shoulders, reaching for the fabled rope dressing her hip and removing it. It fell to the floor cool against her heels if she let herself feel it. She loosened her rigid belt letting it slide to her toes gently kicking it elsewhere. Only her tried and true cuffs, breastplate and briefs on, she was as lax as she chose to be. 

"I tire of this farce," T'Challa said sounding like he meant it. It was scary. The idea. "Perhaps this has all been an elaborate ruse to keep me from Wakanda. Some twisted punishment for my being so quick to desert my throne." 

"No one loves our nation more than you," Diana differed trapping her hips between her fingers. Her knee bent forward slightly and it couldn't be helped: she looked like she just stepped from a cover of Vogue Greece. "We must continue to hope for the best while expecting the worst. I refuse to believe we have failed at what has yet to begin." 

( _Yes, T'Challa. Listen to your pet. Is she not the embodiment of truth?_ ) 

T'Challa's neutral left his squared jaw. Prominent eyebrows dropping, his lips narrowed. It wasn't his worst enemy standing before him but that was how it appeared. Diana waited to hear him say it. 

"Achebe," he got around to revealing. She didn't guess why she couldn't hear the same thing. It took more waiting.  

"You flee like the coward you are. It won't matter. I will find you, defector," he promised tensing beneath his attire. 

( _Why wait, my king? Central Park West. Now. I would hate to have to kill at random because of your negligence._ ) 

"What is he saying?" Diana asked curiously. "T'Challa?" 

She didn't have to wonder where his cowl went. It zigged-zagged across his very visible scowl to conceal all emotion. That was new. T'Challa disappeared. The Panther remained. A glow in his eyes burned like two yellow coals but behind them was their true worth. 

"Stay here," he uttered with no warmth. 

On his way to a terrace door, still opened, he didn't so much as stop to draw breath. He dove against the breeze over the railing facing the embassy as Diana trailed. She stopped abruptly to peek over it. He was gone. How he moved like he could addled the mind she made up. She decided to join him whether he liked it or not. 

* * *

It was his smile. From ear to ear it revealed big teeth, gnarled and a shade of yellow. The king hated that smile and his total lack of hair on his scalp, and eyebrows. Achebe no slouch leopard fangs stretched his ear lobes to the point of deformity. It was archaic, much like the Maasai People of Kenya practiced centuries before him. Wrapping a beaten into shape body was foreign clothing. A few feet from his enemy T'Challa could care less. Achebe's slit pupils glazed at the king's being so close in proximity.  

"My king." 

"Defector." T'Challa stepped forward once. Achebe raised one hand. 

"Not so fast. The suit is a recent purchase," he said brushing at his jacket's button. He pulled on the wider side of his blood red tie to the desired resistance. "And we wouldn't want the bomb buried underneath the reservoir to detonate, would we?" 

T'Challa stopped what had been an advance. Hill heights and tree positions were kept in mind. There was a way to test the claim. 

"What do you want?" he asked thumbing his glove's side with Achebe none the wiser. 

"The mighty black kitty cat; fetish god of the fat, the spoiled, and the self-absorbed. T'Chaka must be getting a little chafed from all the three-sixties he's turning in his grave," Achebe sneered. "Do you still believe Ares is my crutch? The war god can barely bring himself to fruition. Literally. Though not for lack of trying. This is about _us_. You. Me. Our lifelong dance." 

T'Challa skulked back and forth never taking his heightened sight from him. He could see clearly regardless, but the dark was no longer an absolute. Sunrise took its time. "I assure you it will not take me long. Pray to Bast that you have not done more harm than you would." 

Achebe ripped his jacket, tie and dress shirt from scarred muscle. His torso was a tapestry of tribal tattoos, self-etched and teal colored. The pain of each felt too good. He left his onyx slacks and loafers alone. 

"Let us have a proper dialogue, you and I." His already wide grin spread wider. "Or." 

"Or?" T'Challa replied. 

"You can unearth and disable what will disintegrate hundreds in three minutes. Decisions, decisions," he said until his cackle whistled. It outstayed its welcome; a grungy taunt like a loud wheeze for the sole purpose of annoying. T’Challa shot forward from a foot surpassing the wind's pace. He popped his claws and their glint wasn't easily missed. His plan was in motion. It only required the third player. 

* * *

She didn't have time to take in the sights. Riding the morning's brisk the body of water she homed in on was Central Park's largest. 

“ **Do you see it?** ” 

"I do," Wonder Woman said dropping like a lobbed spear. "I will join you soon." 

“ **No, Diana. I will deal with him myself.** ” 

She hit the water's surface face first unsure of his harshness. Her fist pushed forward with the other balled to her side visual aides were its outline. One way it gleamed to show her where. She held her breath and could for hours. The shell of it translucent she focused until the rigid of any components were hers to eyeball. She had less than fifteen seconds. One scoop from her drop she arched her back and willed herself faster. Too fast. 

Pedestrians getting in morning workouts nearly tripped over themselves to watch what they thought to be a blur lifting the pond with it. Already high up she went higher. Bombs blowing up in her face was never any day's highlight. She closed her eyes always thinking she needed to. A rapid increase in volume first, high temperatures and an extreme release of gases, it was the noise. Her innards jumped at it functioning normally when they could. She heard more than that. There were screams coming from the ground. Air particles were torn apart as too many to count quickly replaced what was lost. Her eye lashes parted but her vision fuzzed. She was falling. A lot of her critics thought flying took no effort on her part. It usually didn't. She still couldn't prevent her slam into one of the reservoir's shallow ends. Impact wasn't painful, just uncomfortably itchy, like someone smacked her back with a heavy shear rug as hard as they could. She had to get up. 

* * *

Achebe wielded them well. T’Challa recognized the daggers slashing for his gorge. The fighting spilled into traffic that had yet to meet them. His foe's jumping spin ceased with a shoe against his gut. Turning over once the king slowed his careen with claws carving into the road, one hand's in sync with the spread of both feet. Quick to rise he caught one of the weapon's Achebe threw using it to repel the second, a third, and a fourth. 

"This will not do, my king! The lesser are watching!" Achebe stopped in the middle of the street to announce. Like bulbs flicking on he summoned more of an implement T'Challa designed pulling them from nothing as fast as they formed. Tossing one pair at a cab's tires sliced through rubber and a rusted hubcap. 

"No!" T’Challa yelled watching as it was forced on its side scraping up sparks. He weaved through oncoming cars in tune with the pressure placed on his muscles. One agile leap onto the driver side door facing him he ripped it from its hinge to paw at a bystander. One yank tossed the heavyset man like he wasn't pushing two-fifty. His bottom plopped on the sidewalk he was hurled to. T'Challa's next pull propped his cab on its wheels in the slide towards Achebe. He was lunging from its front hood before it came to any stop. Caught by his foe's airborne dart Achebe whisked him away from anyone seeing it happen. 

"You protect them as if they were one of ours?! Typical, T'Challa!" he scoffed forcing the back of T'Challa's head along architectural glass. It buckled under their combined weight. Achebe could fly. He shouldn't have been able to. And all the while the king suffered his insane sneering. The discomfort was two-sided. 

* * *

Wonder Woman woke to several keeping their distance and a migraine. Whatever the bomb's effects they were wearing off. Getting to her feet a sunny sky welcomed her, as did new intel. 

"T'Challa. The data—transfer is complete." She palmed her aching head. The throbbing wasn't so easy to will away. "Black Panther. Do you copy?" Unbeknownst to her was her king's two-sided pain. She had a choice of the same brand: she could go to him or go to it. Diana swallowed her pride as she had already swallowed smoke from a flame not able to roast her skin. Glancing around to make sure no one was in peril was instinctive. She jumped nearly hopping a building in a single bound if not for her keeping her rise straight. Curving her flight was to shoot forward in the direction she chose. The current was cool. When it slammed her fixed expression she thought, so be it. The elements would fold to her if it meant arriving on time. 

* * *

He let himself fall spotting a roof and the drop was close. He thought it was close. Cutting thirty feet through the air he caught himself with a tumble into a jog and then a slide on his boots. His claws dug into gravel. He thanked the cushion of vibranium-weave over his knees. Lost wind regained, not tense but ready, Achebe vanished. Regardless of his not being visible he couldn't cease his bodily functions and that was all the king needed. 

( _Always stubborn! Always needing to be the only one right because everyone else is wrong. I wonder if your queen approves of such hubris._ ) 

The dagger tossed wouldn't expect the counter. T'Challa's foot parried it. He rose an uppercut at nothing to rip Achebe's chest open. 

"What?!" The latter stumbled back, shocked at being found and the deep gash. T'Challa ran jumping his leg thrust to cave in a torso behind nothing to shield it. Achebe opened his palm to lob more energy daggers, his footing lost. They missed their target. T'Challa appeared from a feint, slashing at his thigh, swinging an elbow into his jaw. Achebe answered with a catch of the wrist and a clutch on the throat. T’Challa's Habit guarded his flesh though the burn was still there. Power at its hottest surged around Achebe's fingers. "You’ll receive no monologue, my king! Only death!" 

"—You deserve neither!" T'Challa activated his sleight of hand. The lining of his suit flared to expose the energy absorbed. At its release Achebe felt nothing less than like he was hit by a bullet train. His lower back crashed through the stoned ledge of the roof sending him into a wild flip he couldn't control over it. His power to fly diminished he would spot the Black Panther's diving after him.

Achebe’s smiling kept as he said, "She will be your end, my king. Their end."

T'Challa couldn't miss his enemy's morph into a flock of ravens. Unlike Achebe, he couldn't fly. His mag-boots readied there wasn't enough time to force himself over. He plunged into the waiting roof of a parked sedan. His suit absorbed most of the impact; thankfully none of the glass, plastics and steel but something was amiss. T'Challa found rest on his back. Diana mentioned their success but words and remembering them was a blur. The blackness flooding his sight like the sudden quiet a bomb didn't blow up in his face, which he imagined hurt worse for her. If he could feel what did, or anything at all, he might have begged to differ. 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

On a steely slab he tried to relax. Azari off to the side, short-statured, watched with no urgency to do anything else. T'Challa noticed the top half of his Habit was removed. Any wounds were healed. His royal aide was no stranger to his blessings.  
  
"He stirs," Azari said.  
  
"Am I in trouble?" T'Challa replied for laughs wondering why it took him so long to recover. Flashing images over their talk couldn't have been less important.  
  
"I will simply say that I do not envy your predicament, my king. Like you, the queen is stubborn. Headstrong. It has followed you your whole life."  
  
"Tell me something else, Azari," T'Challa said. "Has the merger caused more problems than it's solved?"  
  
Azari's wrinkled brow reminded T'Challa of time. He had some to give but much of it was lost. Azari's knowledge of his more mischievous days helped him smile. T'Challa's elder was as adept at dodging questions.    
  
"We gave him everything. A new life. A chance at peace. Achebe shames us all," Azari said.  
  
T'Challa sat up with the utmost confidence. "—I have not done this in a while, my friend. Relaxed. Joked even. It has become some foreign thing out of my reach."  
  
"Then it appears we should thank him for that as well," Azari grinned.  
  
Like T'Chaka he thought T'Challa a paragon first and foremost. T'Challa thought him a father figure he would never take for granted. But her return wasn't silent. Their visitor stood there, baffled, not ready to accept that her king was so lively as he had been inert for hours.  
  
"My queen," Azari bowed, on his way out. Diana could feel it. The eyes on her. Azari's at first then two in particular. T'Challa's followed her strut into a conversation that had yet to start. She prolonged the walk up; still nonchalant and still aggravated until she set her backside onto something padded.  
  
"You will have your chance to greet Hades," she decided on. "and shall if you ever scare me like that again."  
  
"It would have taken more than he had," he said.  
  
"—I'm not so sure. Must you carry the world on your shoulders?" she said.  
  
"What's done is done," he sighed sternly. Warring stares, no one for yielding, maybe the best move wasn't the right one. He tried less cold. "We mustn't argue who was right and who wasn't."  
  
She shook her head first, then changed the subject with, "We have the location. Superman is ready and able as soon as you are."  
  
She crossed one leg over the other in her leaning forward. "I've also sent word to Zatanna."  
  
"Who's ever eager to contribute, I presume," he smirked. He glanced to the device still on. There was a simplistic to its contemporary design when everything else in the chamber cost a giant's arm and leg. "Your efforts are their topic of discussion."  
  
He watched as the current newscast had nothing to do with any soreness.  
  
" _Our_ efforts. Stop me when you've heard this. How often do you see a panther falling from the sky in Manhattan? Never. Less so is one that good at sedan remodeling," she teased as she fondled his hand.  
  
"My armor's functions were negated. No one is capable of such a feat. No one but someone aware of its inner workings. Achebe was close to the royal family before his betrayal."  
  
T'Challa leaned back against his palms. The flex of his muscly arms not intentional Diana wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying she may have looked once. He watched his lap wishing his own remarks made sense. When he shot her a bit of attention it was due to her smelling like the lotion she usually wore. Donna Karen. Cashmere Mist. She did that thing he adored where she watched his fingers as she stroked them from the knuckle down. It was easy to forget she could tear a car in half. T'Challa leaned back almost flat like it was the right thing to do. He didn't believe Diana's climbing onto the slab.

He definitely didn't believe her trapping his pelvis between thighs that were much stronger than they looked. He felt her lower curves and their soft pressing through her briefs. He was going nowhere. She ran fingers along his stomach. He let it happen. He wanted it to. For the longest time she simply poked his torso at her leisure. She then took her lasso in hand. Holding it out for him he knew to touch its shimmer. Her expression dead serious the line between his chest was her pointer's playground. He watched her intently.

"Must there always be conflict?" she asked. "Is it wrong that we live to fight another day? The lasso compels you to speak truthfully."  
  
"Not wrong," he admitted, at her and its beckon. "Perhaps a reprieve from tempting the Sisters of Fate is in order. It will happen sooner than you think."  
  
It was truth. The question was did she need the lasso at all? Diana stopped her test to soak up the notion. She took her lariat from him. She looked to T'Challa's navel letting her hair fall past her shoulders. The lower half of his regalia stayed above his waist, much to their dismay. When she swung a leg over him to hop to the floor she stopped on her feet. He sat up a third time. He wanted to press her for information as she chose a silent take. She could spot her reflection in the floor, staring to it, then rose any gazing off. Turning to leave she only offered a tempting grin to keep him content.

* * *

 "— **Leave a mess, beautiful. We owe them that much for their devotion to the cause.** "  
  
"You say the sweetest things, Achebe," she said licking the sharpest ends of her canines.  
  
Anything between her wants and motives was fair game. She climbed, not yet spotted by hired snipers positioned on neighboring posts. Barbed wire on a perimeter fence no issue as she cleared it her first victims weren't facing her silent drop. She slashed a nape. Her legs were around another's throat before he could yell. One ambled too slowly for her when he turned into too quick claws, his back slung into cement. It was second nature. The hunt. The skylight she found belonged to a compound. Positioned on the outskirts of a region it was isolated, and she could butcher the lot at her leisure. She penetrated near unbreakable glass, meaning to, graceful as she was vicious when she stuck the landing.  
  
Muzzles flashed at random but hitting her was near impossible. She was too fast. Her fingers cut the skin from a cheekbone. She stretched a foot into a chin severing the barrel from a third's sidearm. Meeting each she ripped the limbs from their bodies stopping abruptly to shove her hand through the chest of the last. Warm, still beating, she ripped the organ from the cavity and through the kevlar not able to protect it. Biting into it once her eyes beamed at the taste of its soft as she gulped the fluid she squeezed from it. She crouched to quickly gnaw at her meal, her tail as expressive as her crazed animation.  
  
Remembering why she was there each door leading into her position gained the plastic explosive she stole. Running up the wall she tugged herself beyond the skylight. The balls of her feet and fingertips caught her weight. She hurried for the rooftop's edge diving over the side. Fire and brimstone at her back one roll into a spring pushed her into a jog then into a strut and not a model's though, despite her beastly features, she certainly looked the part. Fine with the carnage the night was still young. And the Cheetah still had the stomach for it.

* * *

Diana marveled at the consoles. The toggles she would never touch out of respect for the one leading her. Deep within the bowels of their embassy was his aerodynamic vehicle, depowered, recently parked, and they left it. Holding her hand T'Challa didn't pull too hard.  
  
"You can just say it," he said glancing back. Nostalgia for teenage years struck her first.  
  
She watched him closely. "Achebe's hatred for you—"  
  
"Is as old as we are," he said. "He despises my father's allying with the Amazons. He despises my defeating him during the ritual."  
  
"He was one of the five?"  
  
"The only non-native. Now I sit on the throne that he believes is rightfully his. Just as you do. An outsider of unnatural birth."  
  
He expected words even if she said nothing. "Those are his sentiments only, Diana," he tried assuring her.  
  
"Of course," she said quietly.  
  
Hers was a slight bout with guilt. What gave that level of his lab its own identity were chambers housing amenities nice enough to dress a loft. She ignored the reflective ebony of the flooring, other objects and interfaces moving without being told to. He noticed her hesitate. Not so much her not blinking. They stopped before a tube taller than they were, platinum-hued and shut.  
  
"Bashenga," he uttered.  
  
At his command it opened to reveal his effort; a uniform's outline of green caught the eye. An S centered on it meant it would be used by another it was sown royal blue with a deeper red for the cape falling to its back. Glowing lines ran parallel from the shoulders to its ankle ends.  
  
"It will negate sixty-six point seven percent of the radiation's effect," he said.  
  
"He should be pleased to hear it," she replied eyeing the craftsmanship.  
  
" **King T'Challa. Queen Diana. Superman has just arrived. Per your request.** "  
  
The shine of cold beads wrapping T'Challa's wrist flared. Lifting his arm let them see three-dimensional footage of it. Always off-putting, his secret police kept their distance within a lobby, were armed, and even to their powerful friend, a hazard. It took the image of his aide shaking his hand.  
  
"Azari. Escort our guest to the meeting chamber," T'Challa commanded.  
  
" **At once, my king.** "  
  
"Diana," he turned only to receive her touch against his lips.  
  
"I know," she said not minding that his mouth was smooth. Her digit in the way she moved it for one prolonged kiss. The joining of their foreheads followed it. His cupping her cheeks followed that. Her skin never lost its velvety nor its tan.  
  
"I will remember our agreement," he promised.  
  
"See that you do," she smiled. "Keep out of trouble."  
  
"Says the troublemaker."  
  
Nudging his jaw a playful moment the implication stuck. He watched her leave as if she preferred not to. His next glance met his work. It was providence. A new objective had his full attention.

* * *

 ** _Within 24 Hours..._**  
  
It was the stench reaching into the air for the smog filling it. Run down, notoriously dangerous, home to the less fortunate that district harbored gangs intermixed with decent people struggling to get by. It attracted the likes of two. Standing on an apartment building's ledge, not notifying anyone of their presence, Wonder Woman and a renowned sorceress gazed at the purple of a sign's neon. A symbol for the location they had to enter across a crowded street.  
  
"The hope is Bibbo will not mind," Diana looked to her.  
  
"He won't. The guy practically worships the ground you and Supes walk on," Zatanna claimed pulling the brim of her top hat. "Going in through the back is our best bet."  
  
"And you're certain we are invisible?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
Both of them rode the wind as both of them could. Car horns honking, civilians were, indeed, oblivious to two women curiously dressed and able to levitate. Ace O' Clubs, the structure's title over its front doors flashed with dazzling effect. Patrons filed to and from it in a wave of constant noise. Setting themselves down Zatanna reversed her incantation.  
  
"!esrepsid ytilibisivnI"  
  
She lightly knocked on the back entrance. A rectangular port slid open revealing a harsh glare.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"A chat with Bibbo Bibbowski. He's expecting us."  
  
"Let em' in Jack."  
  
The opened door revealed another mountain of man, slack-jawed, known to always wear a wool fisherman's cap. It accentuated rough features not including the graphic tee and Superman's crest near its top obscured marginally by a dusted trenchcoat. The bristles of his light beard moved with his wide, cheeky grin. A kind soul he viewed one of his idols standing behind someone he'd pay money to watch perform. It was every reason to shove his disgruntled employee out of the way.  
  
"Excuse the rude greeting, ladies. Jack's a borderline numbskull."  
  
His speaking tone hardy, loud, Diana shook his hand, thinking it polite that he kissed the top of hers. Bibbo followed after she and Zatanna's walk into retro jazz and drunken banter.

* * *

He was determined as he moved against the coolness. A heightened kinesthetic sense let him know exactly where the next tree limb would be, not even a moment's doubt that his fingers would close about it. The Black Panther let his speed brachiate around its width to catch himself on the balls of his feet. Several meters below his standing upright were prey tainted with the smell. Each carried a shard of a xenomineral encased in rifles he assumed were automatic. There were no magazines, just cartridges, packed to the brim as the weapons had yet to be fired.  
  
"What do you see?" he spoke. He thanked goodness for the Habit's insulated warmth as a gale picked up. It couldn't knock him from his perch.  
  
" **You called it. Whatever shield's this area has to be lead based. Which should be impossible.** "  
  
"A mere feat of the object they abuse, Superman."  
  
" **We were expected.** "  
  
"We were. On my signal."  
  
" **Copy that.** "

* * *

The space was clammy and the smell didn't improve on the way down. The furnace heating a fully-stocked cellar of wine and other provisions clicked and clacked, on its close to last leg. Zatanna's pumps soon tapped a brick floor. Slight shifts in the angle of illumination lit her and one more and cobwebs decorated most of everything. Diana looked to it and antiques. Other oddities when she could. Her lasso was no six shooter but it was there she kept an opened hand and itchy fingertips.  
  
"You have closed many of these before," she said. "Why is it they, _occur_ , in locations such as this one?"  
  
She pressed her index to a cracked barrel, looking to her companion.  
  
"What's upstairs? Life, right? Sentient activity," Zatanna said offering a grin. "These gateways would rip anyone else to shreds. Bibbo was smart to not get too close."  
  
The sound of it faint Zatanna stopped herself from nearly tripping into it. "Check this out."  
  
Diana's approach to her quick her stare rested on the anomaly. Between dual rows of imported bottles was a swirling mystery; a flat mist able to lick at their toes like horizontal fire. It gave off no scent, couldn't burn, yet it also wouldn't freeze. Zatanna shirked any fear to aim her hand towards it.  
  
".latrop eht nepO" Her palms hummed with intermittent glows. Her eyes seeped a milky vapor. Her body began a light tremble. All the while Diana stood at the ready.  
  
"Zatanna?!" she cried quickly catching her sudden fall. She took a knee to hold her. Wiping sweat from her forehead, Zatanna woke, dizzied.  
  
"I-I'm good," she said between breaths. "You ready?"  
  
"Yes." Diana helped her regain balanced footing. A needed circumstance as Zatanna could extend the hand she never dropped once more. Drawing them into the portal, and it into itself, it sealed before vanishing.

* * *

He sprinted faster through the forest upsetting its appeal. Lunging into it his feet stopped against two skulls dropping the unaware before they knew what hit them. His pace struck three more not so close in unbroken succession. Seven rushed, no quarter given, no quarter gained. Their nicked, armored vests weren't as durable as his daggers. His weapons stabbed into theirs set to burn the hands clutching them. He swung a quick fist into an attacker's gut tossing a kick into another's sternum. His strike lobbed his opponent from his feet into the nearest bark. The two remaining tried slashing with knives but were snatched by the ankle, upturned into a spiraling drop which would end against their spines. The Black Panther didn't so much as glance to the aftermath of his progress.  
  
"Superman," he said. "Be sure to strike the barrier at the points I designate."  
  
" **Got it.** "  
  
The king tapped the fore of his wrist summoning two flat spheres detaching from his Habit. Both morphed into arrow-shaped devices, serrated and turning to grayed silhouettes to match the morning sky. The air smelled of rain to come, more of the xenomineral, and the material of a new enemy's frame. He continued his unchecked run. He took to the trees with a leap trading the ground for verticality. High up was better for the stealth he would have to utilize a while longer.

* * *

Forty miles of pristine sandy beach, marshes, ponds, and uplands the sky cracked open for two. Over sand to catch their landing on it Zatanna and Wonder Woman jogged to and past a shoreline wading knee deep into tranquil waves looking more like tar than water.  
  
"Up, up!" Zatanna exclaimed as she knew what they were standing in.  
  
Both flew from their bodies being sucked into it. Airborne though not necessarily safe Diana surveyed what she could. The sky was no sky. It was scorched the shade of a rainbow in the midst of being torn in two. Black lightning flashes and humidity were no plus. They felt heavier. Though Zatanna's force-field was pellucid and bright Diana's eyes would never betray her.  
  
"Great Hera," she mumbled. Everything, the plant life, grains of sand, the firmament itself, all of it seemed to draw breath.  
  
"Welcome to the Deadlands. I know. An ironic name for it," Zatanna said with a sense of ease. She'd seen it before. "What we're looking for is a mile or two north of here."  
  
Her spell carried her assurance with Diana's. She placed herself and the Amazon on the sand flattening the power she projected to form around their feet. It circled Diana's boots like a radiant layer she assumed would suffice. She took her shield from her back sliding her forearm through its leather grips. Her free hand wrapped around the worn grip of her gladius up to the hilt. Zatanna chose not to ask why her ally chose the purest silver for her tiara, cuffs, belt and breastplate. Diana's also deciding on a cape adorned with the same ruby stars, chained at the neckline with gold she once favored. It brought a smile to the sorceress's face before she snapped a finger. An orb of light zipped along the ground, the path it carved a route to guide them toward wherever.  
  
"What manner of beast are we meeting?" Diana wondered, gazing forward. She had to glance to Zatanna as she received no answer.  
  
"Something right up your alley," Zatanna teased. To spite the danger Diana offered a cocksure smile. Zatanna took point, holding out glove tips, pushing her hand into but not through a blanket of bending luster. Wonder Woman hoped it wouldn't keep. The rush of her adrenaline was that of a warrior's. Peril was welcomed.

* * *

His springing through the trees evaded gunfire. One of them squeezed the trigger of a gun emplacement sending up to thirty rounds per second. The Black Panther's arching twist was a dodge to elude the bullet spray. He fell onto a vehicle's back soon over his aggressor before he could turn to him. The end of his slash cut through the barrel sending the gunner flying over the vehicle's side. Several blasting from passenger and driver windows wrestled with frustration. Their ammunition was a minor nuisance to the Habit. A red blur was its contrast. He brought himself among the chaos and slowed between speeding humvees.  
  
"T'Challa! The treeline!" Superman yelled.  
  
T'Challa pressured his calves pushing himself into a nimble spring elsewhere. Clark's blue eyes gleamed; twin beams unleashed to cut the axles from both transports causing their sudden stop. Each dove into the air flipping before their tops flattened against muddy soil. He flew higher swerving throughout any obstacle. Trailing drones jerked into old trunks as they couldn't track the unnatural motion. As a pair they arrived at the foot of a base. Clark descended, his red boots touching flat as T'Challa found a place at his left. He crouched. Finding a shard of kryptonite he held it to his ally's gear. Like ripples in water the shard's touching Superman's garb could affect, but barely.  
  
"It would seem it is functioning appropriately," T'Challa remarked. He crushed what he held in his palm dropping an emerald powder as his hand opened to let it fall.  
  
Clark didn't need to register the stress on the king's vitals. "You were pretty brutal back there."  
  
There was no response so he tried focusing.

"I'll scour the area for any stragglers."

He left with a quickness limited to he and a small few. T'Challa made his way toward towering doors, the alloy familiar, decades old yet the lead-vibranium composition couldn't be mistaken. The length of both imposed. Superman returned as if he never left.  
  
"We should have no more interruptions," he replied. His own analysis of the door was unrushed. "A lead-vibranium compound. Judging by the state of it this place has been here for centuries."  
  
"Created during the era of the Originators," T'Challa shared like it was common knowledge.  
  
"Let me guess. It shouldn't exist."  
  
"Precisely."  
  
The entryway slid apart, slowly at first, not at their beckon. Walking into the smell of death couldn't turn up the nose of men accustomed to misfortune. Achebe's mercenaries were laid amid every corner of a dank room. Some were ripped to pieces. Consoles were caved-in, separated, and burning. The Black Panther looked to Superman as they both combed the area. They met in its center unclear on the point. Moments passed before another could offer clarity.  
  
" **The Kryptonian isn** ' **t like you** , **kaffir**."  
  
T'Challa and Clark turned to face the latter's twin. Though the insult was for the king its sneer was for the alien.  
  
" **Cheetah took care of the rest**. **We have no more use for the weak** , **you see**."  
  
Clark remained disgusted. T'Challa was everything but.  
  
"Call out your master. This game of his is tired," he said standing firm. "I know what Achebe seeks. I know who he has allied with to acquire it."  
  
The news was more a shock to Superman as nothing of the sort was mentioned. It brought his doppleganger more glee.  
  
" **Why rush the inevitable**?"  
  
Its pacing from side-to-side would unsettle anyone else. Clark watched it carefully. Awaiting the first move could oftentimes be a torture.  
  
"Go, T'Challa." He shot his comrade a glance. "I'll deal with this."  
  
"Are you certain you can?"  
  
"We'll see, won't we?"  
  
A nod of approval was the only response he would get. T'Challa left him though Clark's double chose not to follow.  
  
" **Nice upgrade**.  **It** ' **s a**   **g** **ood thing I asked for one too** ," it threatened opening its chest to flash a larger piece of the rock powering it.

Its distorted glow caught Superman's eye, if only briefly. There was the boom like thunder cracks and both could hear it no matter how far off the grid they were. Superman met his double with the force of a sidewinder missile taking him through several walls of dirty and rigid. When he carried it into, throughout, and from it they opened a layer of earth, soaring straight up. A right hook connected to send his clone into a cliff-side. The location's quake wouldn't even out until he caught his breath. Mountainous rock was no match shattering to bits as it rose to meet him. It held itself in the air some ways from Superman's lack of patience. Facial circuitry exposed and split it still had the gall. Clark didn't care. Not about kryptonite poison, its posturing, nor the intentions of the unseen. He mustered a breakneck dart. His fist bashed his enemy's writing half-a-mile dents into their backdrop. Swinging a free hand missed but its kick snapped into his hip wouldn't. The breath knocked from him it seized its chance to take another. Its hand around his neck show and tell was on the menu. The S slid apart.  
  
" **Beautiful**. **Isn** ' **t** **it**?"  
  
It forced hard-as-steel knuckles into Superman's gut.  
  
"Ahhn!" he grunted as it was punched from him. Muscle failure and delirium set in always gradually to the point of agonizing. His suit compensated.  
  
" **Don** ' **t** **tug on Superman** ' **s** **cape**? **Tsk**. **Watch me**."  
  
"—Let me—show you—why you shouldn't," Clark slipped through choked off air supply. With a tensed spread of the eyes he found the component. Precise scorching away of the piece trapped within his clone's skull gave him an avenue.  
  
" **RAHNNNHHHNH**!"  
  
Smoke seeped from the twitching slits in its glare in spite of frantic wiping. Gone was a crucial piece of its functioning. It trembled in disbelief first, then snatched Superman to bring him into a plunge.  
  
" **YOU** ' **RE** **DEAD**!" it screamed squeezing his collar on the whistling fall.  
  
Clark's back caved in the dirt he was slammed into. Driven deeper, its shining heart a little too close for comfort, he turned to steal their momentum. Icy breath trapped its feet and legs before he flew from a fresh tunnel's slick. Leaving the ground again he took himself back instead of up. His double reemerged to leave its footing in a dash swinging a punch Superman dodged. It chased after his movements tossing a litany into nothing. The impact of their separating only to meet again spooked clouds torn apart at the dispute.


End file.
